


Tea and Chocolate

by ashinae, cruisedirector



Series: Animi Causa [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Drama, M/M, Romance, Sex Magic, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-12-13
Updated: 2009-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinae/pseuds/ashinae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape has a pocket full of candy and no good explanation for why it's there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tea and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> This story was never finished; it has twelve complete chapters and the beginning of a thirteenth.

As she was wont to do to each of them from time to time, Molly Weasley cornered Severus Snape in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place and handed him two cups of dreadful-smelling tea. With an inward sigh, he resigned himself to evading her concerned questions about his well-being, and was taken quite by surprise when she brushed past him and said, "Take one up to Remus, would you, love?"

"To Remus?" Snape asked slowly, as if he couldn't quite remember which wizard was Remus. But when Molly only continued on her way, he snapped, "What makes you think I want anything to do with Remus Lupin?"

"I was only suggesting you go upstairs and see him," Molly answered with the same brusque annoyance she would have turned on one of her sons if he asked a foolish question. "It's been months, Severus. He hides upstairs unless Dumbledore sends him somewhere. He thinks he's alone."

If Remus Lupin felt alone, Snape wanted to say, it was only because it was true. With the exception of a few members of the Order who had had spouses or lovers before Voldemort's return, none had had the time or inclination to pair off. The fates of the Potters and Longbottoms had been enough to deter most, and if anyone needed a further reason, one look at Lupin's gray, sunken face provided it. Snape avoided Lupin whenever possible, not only because the man's grief was wearying, but because he could not find it within himself to mourn Sirius Black, and that fact made it difficult for him to meet Lupin's eyes.

"Send Tonks," he suggested shortly to Molly. "She enjoys Lupin's company."

"She's very young, Severus," Molly scolded. "She can't really understand what he's going through. Besides, she's tried. You, on the other hand, have known him nearly all his life."

"Only because he didn't successfully end my life when I was Mr. Potter's age," snarled the professor in a tone he usually reserved for very slow students.

"He had no control over that..."

"No, and now he is in mourning for the man who was responsible -- a man who couldn't be bothered to speak to me in a civil tone while I was teaching occlumency as a personal favor to his godson." Molly glared at this; speaking ill of Sirius Black was not tolerated within the Order, partly due to the nature of his sacrifice but mostly out of respect for his surviving partner. "What makes you think that Lupin would want to see me?"

"What would it hurt to try? Take some tea up to him. Tell him I sent you -- that I'm very busy, but I thought he would like something. Tell him I'm a very stubborn woman and wouldn't take no for an answer. He won't turn his back on you."

"He spent years turning his back while his friends treated me like something lower than a burrowing insect," Snape reminded her.

It was somewhat unusual for Molly to lose her temper with any adult who wasn't a family member -- she was more often the peacemaker at Grimmauld Place -- but now she snapped, "Maybe he was afraid to take the chance of losing them. And maybe he's grown up, Severus. Have you? I look at him, and I look at you, and I see two very lonely people. But I'm not pointing my wand at your head and making you do anything, am I?"

Then she did point her wand, but it was only to aim it at the cups and utter a spell to keep the tea hot. Without another word she stormed out of the kitchen. Severus stood for a few moments, staring at the two saucers in his hands, before he sighed and walked upstairs very carefully to avoid waking any pictures. Because of the teacups, he was unable to knock at Lupin's room, and was ready to give up and return to the library when he noticed that the door was cracked open.

"Are you in there, Lupin?" he inquired.

"Yes, come in, it's not locked," came the voice from inside. Snape was about to retort that a door that had been left partially ajar obviously wasn't bolted, but he couldn't help thinking that Remus Lupin was not careless enough to leave his door open by accident. Perhaps he had been hoping for company; perhaps others besides himself had failed to notice this on previous occasions.

"I've brought you tea," Snape said without inflection. "Molly was on her way out but thought that you might like some and ordered me to bring it upstairs." A half-smile crossed Remus' face, as if the full smile was too much effort to manage. "Don't thank me until you've tried it, however. It's noxious." That comment did not draw a smile from Remus either, though it did cause his eyes to widen in surprise; he took the cup with both hands, sniffing it and frowning before he sipped and promptly wrinkled his nose.

"Ugh. Last week it tasted like eucalyptus oil. Perhaps she thinks she's benefiting our health." He tried to drink the tea again, but couldn't manage it, and put the down on the table beside the bed. "The only health benefit of which I'm aware from eucalyptus tea is to ease a head cold, which a simple spell can do," Snape mused. "Though it is often used in mouthwash...do you suppose that she finds our breath offensive, and is too polite to tell us?"

Remus gave him the half-smile again, though it was rather more animated -- not from the mockery, Snape suspected, but from his own continued presence in Lupin's room, which was something of a mystery to himself as well, now that he'd done the task Molly had requested of him. "Perhaps the entire Order has been complaining about our breath behind our backs," Lupin joked. "Though it isn't as if we've spent very much time with any of them recently."

Molly's words came back to Severus; he pushed aside momentary irritation at the memory. "For myself, I'm not terribly fond of socializing," he noted.

For a moment Lupin looked at him. "You never were. I wasn't really, either. Just with a few."

Snape was tempted to make a retort that it wasn't as if he would have learned to become fond of socializing at Hogwarts, given the example Lupin's friends had set; that, however, would make it sound as if he cared far more than he ever would have suggested to this last member of their little group. "I rather thought that you did enjoy socializing," he said instead. "That it was fear of discovery, rather than disinterest, that made you avoid people."

"Touché." Lupin looked away a moment, then asked softly, "Do you hate me so much, Severus?"

It was not a question worth dignifying with a response, so Snape ignored it. "Everyone in the Order already knows what you are," he declared emphatically. "We're all quite familiar with one another's nasty little secrets, aren't we? Yet you haven't been willing to join in Arthur Weasley's tedious card games or Tonks' endless blather about whatever it is she blathers about."

Wearily Lupin rubbed at his eyes. "I don't want to," he replied plaintively. "I'm quite sure that they understand why. Molly is hoping..."

"Well, I don't want to either, but I can't always come up with a reason to avoid them," Snape interrupted. "Surely you've noticed that they worry about you -- honestly, do you think Molly would have sent _me_ of all people up here if she hadn't been getting desperate? You look terrible. You rarely leave this room."

"How kind of you to notice." Lupin looked tired, defeated, yet at the same time his curiosity was piqued, wondering what Snape was doing there -- a question to which he still had no answer.

"If I've noticed, don't you think it's because it's impossible to miss? You haven't looked this terrible since..._he_ went to Azkaban."

Lupin looked down at his hands. "I was used to being alone after a while. Then I took for granted that _he_ was here and I got used to that. And now..." He closed his eyes to swallow, and for a terrible moment Snape thought he might weep. But Lupin only glanced up again, the question clear in his eyes: _Why are _you_ here?_

Snape put down his cold tea beside the other cup on the table and paced the few steps to the back wall of the dark little room, where a fierce-looking cat in a painting was stalking something just outside the frame. "Is this actually worse, now," he asked Lupin, "than when you thought he had killed your best friends and betrayed everyone you knew?

"They're all gone now, Severus." Lupin's expression held studied bleakness. "It's just me, now." Almost as an afterthought he added, "Sirius promised me he wouldn't leave again."

"But I don't understand -- I don't understand how even his death could be harder than believing that he had betrayed you." It was a difficult admission to make, and Snape did not understand how that, either, could escape Lupin's recognition. "You have your memories. You don't have to make yourself forget him. Do you know what -- what some people would give even to have had such a promise from someone?"

The momentary hesitation had cost him. Lupin was staring, distracted from his own grief, in frank interest. He cocked his head, considering. "What would you give?"

My soul, Snape thought privately, remembering. Aloud he said, "It doesn't matter. I was never going to receive such a promise. Even the wish is ancient history. The point is, I survived."

"Yes, I suppose you did." From the werewolf, at least, Snape had no fear of being pitied, but something had changed; there was a spark of animation in the Lupin's features. "Severus, wouldn't you like to sit down?"

Snape very nearly said no thank you, but he remembered Molly's words and the door left ajar. There was only one chair, so Lupin settled on the edge of the large bed that dominated the room, currently half-hidden under books and parchments; Snape realized that Sirius Black had probably slept there more often than not, and felt his skin itch unpleasantly. He did not think that he reacted to the sensation, but the other wizard appeared to notice his discomfort.

"You don't really want to be here, do you?"

"I don't think Grimmauld Place would have been anyone's first choice."

Lupin waggled a finger, and a spark of the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor returned. "You know what I mean, Severus. She sent you up here to talk to me. Didn't she?"

"She did suggest that I bring you the tea." At once Lupin looked both amused and embarrassed. "You should know by now that Molly Weasley could not force me to do anything against my will."

Mildly Lupin replied, "I do know that, though I did think it was an unspoken rule that we all live in fear of the anger of Molly Weasley." They shared a brief grin. "If not at her request, then, why are you here?"

For this Snape had no reply, and after a moment Lupin nodded, as if that, at least, he could understand. "Would you like me to leave?" Snape inquired. His colleague shook his head -- far too quickly, it seemed -- and Snape frowned suddenly, leaning close to look at him. "Lupin, why _don't_ you despise me? I forced you from a job at Hogwarts that you loved. Young Mr. Potter blames me for everything that happened at the Department of Mysteries, I was a Death-Eater..."

"I...I feel partly responsible." Lupin bowed his head, and at the tremor in his voice there was no question of the sincerity of his words. "After what happened at Hogwarts, and the things James did, and Sirius..." Snape was about to interrupt, to point out that he made his own choices and did not need Lupin's pity, but the other man continued, "I never did anything to stop them. If they hadn't -- maybe you wouldn't have made the choices you did."

They were both haunted by the same understanding. Snape spoke it aloud -- the words Sirius Black had never said to him, perhaps had never dared even to joke about, but he certainly must have considered. "If I'd stayed with the Dark Lord just a little longer, I would have known that Sirius was innocent, and that it was Peter who was working for him. I could have spared you and Sirius both those twelve years."

"The thought has crossed my mind," Lupin admitted. "But, if you had stayed, you might not have been able to leave. They might never have allowed it."

"And yet they let me go. Perhaps because I did not know, and that served their interests." There had been a single moment of suspicion, at one time, Snape recalled: Peter Pettigrew in an unexpected place, with his usual look of startled fear. Snape had asked about it, but Lucius Malfoy had only glanced at him with the incredulous disgust he always used to silence Snape's doubts, and he had never inquired again.

"Lucius Malfoy," Lupin said as if he had been reading Snape's thoughts; instantly he brought all the power of his occlumency training to bear, but the other man's expression showed only the same curiosity it had reflected earlier. "You and he were close, once, weren't you. Mightn't he have had you spared?"

"Lucius Malfoy has never done anything that did not serve his own best interests," Snape answered, the same reply he had given Dumbledore when asked the same question years earlier. "There is no friend he would have spared, based on any notion of personal loyalty -- nor his family, nor other Death-Eaters, and certainly not me."

Lupin studied him for another moment, then reached into a pocket of his robe. Stiffening, Snape closed his fingers around his own wand, but when the hand was withdrawn it was holding a chocolate bar, which Lupin broke in half and offered.

With a bemused smirk, Snape accepted it. "Is there any form of suffering that you do not believe can be cured by chocolate?"

"Perhaps not cured," Lupin admitted, matching his smile. "But can you honestly say that it does not improve nearly every situation, save perhaps an upset stomach?" He bit into the bar enthusiastically, and a moment later Snape did the same. The bittersweet taste made his mouth water pleasurably, and he did not notice that the other wizard had stopped chewing and was studying him again. "I heard some things," Lupin said softly. "People talked, once Sirius was back and it became clear that we had made at least one mistake in our assumptions about the Dark Lord's allies. There were rumors about you."

Snape tensed all over. No one had ever suggested to him that anyone knew...he had been certain that Lucius had made sure no one would ever know. "People talked?" he asked, attempting to sound idly curious rather than urgently so. "Who? What did they say?"

"I suspect that there are people on his own side who would pay dearly to see him fall," Lupin said, ignoring the question. "Would it ruin him, among that sort of wizarding crowd for whom breeding pureblood children is so important?" Lucius had always said that no one must know of their relationship, but his reasons had had to do with the possibility of exploitation by his enemies, and Snape had not stopped to consider that while such liaisons were tolerated even among purebloods so long as a wizard produced offspring, Lucius might have thought that his friends as well as those who opposed the Death-Eaters might have taken advantage of his lover.

"Narcissa Malfoy," Snape said, thinking aloud. "She was the one who..." Then he paused, looking at Remus through narrowed eyes. "Sirius was her cousin," he said quietly. "And Bellatrix would have been jealous of Lucius' position among the Death Eaters...Bellatrix could never stand for anyone to have anything she wanted. Did you hear this rumor from Sirius?" Remus nodded, looking down at the bed. Crossing his legs, Snape rested his elbow on his knee and lowered his head to consider. "It doesn't make sense. She _killed_ Sirius; she's the one who had Kreacher lie to him. Why would she cast aspersions on her own husband, the father of her son and heir? I suppose that she might want to distance herself from him, now, if the Dark Lord blames him for failing to recover the prophecy and for getting himself put in Azkaban, but that all happened afterward. I don't understand."

"I don't either," Lupin said. "I'm sorry, Severus."

"If they'd wanted to discredit him that way," Snape replied softly, half to himself, "they had only to ask me."

Lupin looked up at him again. "Would you have told them?"

"Would I have told the truth?" he asked. Then he realized that he had never answered Remus' question. "Yes," he said, and shivered at the sudden recognition that he had never discussed this with anyone, never spoken it aloud. "Malfoy and I...for many years. I never said so in so many words to Dumbledore because I couldn't imagine what possible relevance it could be to the Order. If Lucius is the reason that I was spared, it is only because he believes that he could win me back, at some crucial moment. He is quite mistaken."

"I couldn't imagine what..." Lupin held out another piece of chocolate. "What he must have done to you, to make you walk away. You worked at St. Mungo's before going to Hogwarts. No one knew how you'd managed to get that job. He must have been able to get you anything you wanted, and yet -- you walked away."

The Mark on Snape's arm burned faintly. It always burned when he thought of that time, and had even during the years when the Death Eaters were scattered and believed their master gone for good. No matter what any of them might have believed on either side, the Dark Mark had never bound him to the Dark Lord. It had been a symbol of his allegiance to Lucius Malfoy, and was now a symbol of his betrayal. Snape stared at Lupin. "I walked away...from _Voldemort_," he spat. "And he let me live. Sometimes I have wondered if he did something to me, and made me forget it, because otherwise I can't fathom why I am still alive."

"Yet here you are." Lupin did not seem to fear that Snape might be an agent of evil hidden among them, either consciously or unknowingly. He smiled faintly, and repeated, "Here you are."

A strange, painful scent assaulted Snape's nostrils. He thought at first that someone must be concocting a poison somewhere in the house, but after a moment he recognized it as the stench of the polish that Tonks insisted on painting onto her fingernails. A moment later Lupin lifted his head as well, and sniffed, looking very like an animal, reminding Severus in a sudden and visceral way of who and what he was sitting with, spilling his secrets as though he and Lupin were old friends.

Quickly he cleared his throat, just as Lupin spoke: "Perhaps we should go down to dinner."

"Perhaps we should. But I must stop and retrieve some items first." He knew that Lupin would not ask what he needed, nor invite himself to come along, and he knew further that the conversation that had passed between the two of them would remain between the two of them. If there was one thing he was certain he could trust in Lupin, it was his discretion -- a recognition which aroused in him faint glimmerings of shame.

Lupin rose as Snape stood, reaching out a hand as if he would touch him, or call him back; but a moment later he let it fall. "Thank you for bringing me the tea," he said.

"Such as it was," Snape added wryly, with a glance at their almost-full cups on the table. "We had better empty those out or Molly will be unhappy." Snape was more certain than ever that Molly had not sent him up to deliver tea. He cocked his head. "Did she say anything to you, about me? Ask you to draw me out, as it were?"

Lupin had the grace to look embarrassed. "I've been something of a project of Molly's, you know," he said. "For awhile it was Tonks she sent with the tea, then Moody -- who delivered it and left without a word, which I must admit was a great relief." Snape could not hide the amusement that tugged the corners of his mouth, and was surprised at the warmth with which it was returned. "I don't think she'd dare ask anyone to draw you out, Severus...she's just trying to keep me from taking whatever drastic measures she thinks I consider available to me. If that is why you're here as well, you can spare me the pep talk about how the Order needs me; I've no intention of abandoning the Order, not while I can do anything to help the children."

"Then this was merely an effort to pair off two grumpy old men," Snape said in mild disbelief, prepared to shake his head and say farewell, but something unexpected happened: Lupin began to laugh, an uncontrolled cackle that filled the room. Remus had not often laughed even when they were boys, no matter what pranks Sirius and James might have pulled, and Snape was hardly known for his sense of humor. He found himself smiling helplessly.

"I'll see you at dinner, Severus," Lupin said. It was too late to fret that the werewolf might perceive a connection between them where none was intended, though Snape nodded as shortly as possible and departed at once. He had told Lupin about Lucius, and worse, he had made him laugh. The connection was already there.

He supposed he was lucky that Molly Weasley was on his side.


	2. Bitter Sweets

Though he still had a home somewhere outside the city, Remus Lupin had lived at Grimmauld Place since the Order of the Phoenix had been reestablished -- or perhaps before that, from the time Sirius Black had asked Lupin to move into his home. Snape was uncertain which had come first: the gathering of Dumbledore's allies or Black and Lupin's private decision to renew the relationship they had begun years before. To the surprise of many, that bond had not been severed by the interruption of more than a decade while Black was in Azkaban and Lupin believed him to be a murderer, and by the time the Order began to gather at Grimmauld Place, the two were evidently on intimate terms.

Since Lupin lived primarily at Grimmauld Place, he had one of the largest rooms in the house, furnished with his own belongings and well-tended even when he was away on Order business. Because Snape stayed mostly at Hogwarts, however, even during holiday breaks, the room he used when he stayed at Grimmauld Place was small, impersonal and occasionally loaned out to others if space was needed to board visiting wizards. As a result, Snape had done nothing to make the room more his own, and he rarely kept any personal possessions in the desk beyond a few essential ingredients for potions and a handful of books.

Thus Snape found himself standing in his room, having placed his wand temporarily atop the wardrobe, with a hand in his pocket and a peculiar embarrassment keeping him from withdrawing it. The pocket was full of sweets from Honeydukes, purchased on an impulse he had no wish to examine at present. He had just returned to Grimmauld Place and had promptly quarreled with Lupin in the library, where his onetime colleague at Hogwarts had been teaching Hermione Granger a spell for aggression far beyond her current ability to control.

Snape did not particularly like sweets. He did not wish to eat them, nor did he wish to leave chocolate bars in the desk of a room considered his own, where someone meddling with an unlocking charm might find them and draw entirely the wrong conclusions about why Snape had purchased and hidden them away. Before he had made a decision about what to do with them, however, a knock at the door interrupted his musings. Shoving the sweets deeper into the pocket, Snape quickly removed his hand to retrieve his wand, flushing as if he had been caught at something shameful. "Yes?" he demanded imperiously, with no suggestion that his visitor should enter, but a moment later the door creaked and Arthur Weasley's overly bright hair and smile intruded through the doorway.

"Oh, Severus, there you are," he said, as though he had not already ascertained this from Snape's response to his banging. "Molly asked me to tell you that supper will be early, so that those going out this evening can eat with the rest of us first." Those going out were on the way to a last-minute raid on the Scottish border, more dangerous than usual given the numbers involved, but such facts would not be mentioned outside of meeting rooms protected with a silencing charm. Lupin would not be going on the raid, as it was only a day until the full moon, nor would Snape, who had several potions to mix including Lupin's wolfsbane.

"I will keep that in mind, but you may have to start without me, as the timing of my work must be precise," he said shortly to Arthur, who nodded and began to withdraw before becoming distracted, upon turning, by someone in the corridor. From Arthur's greeting, Snape knew that it was Lupin, and because Arthur did not bother to pull the door shut, he heard the entirety of their conversation, which concerned the Floo Network and a safe-house that no longer was. Snape's hand returned to his pocket but he hesitated to pull out the candy, in case Lupin should unexpectedly walk in and find him there with it.

Indeed, Lupin did come in to the room, though not before knocking and then inquiring at Snape's terse acknowledgment whether he might enter. Lupin glanced around awkwardly and looked as though he would say something about one of the paintings on the wall before coming to the obvious conclusion that the painting was not Snape's, but belonged to the house and just happened to have been placed there. "Please sit down," intoned Snape, rather more of an order than he had intended, yet Lupin sank with a grateful nod onto the sagging, threadbare sofa. It was quite chilly at any distance from the fireplace, and he rubbed his hands together, glancing up when the package in Snape's pocket made an unexpected crinkling noise.

Snape knew that if he ignored the sound himself, Lupin would choose to ignore it as well; the potions master might have had ingredients in his pocket for a concoction that was none of Lupin's concern, or parchment containing information for Dumbledore's eyes only. But he was disturbed by the telltale flush on his own face, and reluctantly reached into his pocket to remove the largest parcel, keeping the chocolate bars buried deep inside. "I have some Every Flavor Beans that I confiscated from a student, if you wish to risk them," he improvised. The other man's countenance lit up absurdly as Snape unwrapped the gaudy package, setting it on the table nearer Lupin. "Some of these may be cocoa-flavored, but I could not tell them from mud, leather or tree bark."

Leaning over a little, Lupin peered into the bowl for a long moment, then reached out with long fingers and popped one into his mouth. "Chocolate," he announced with a broad smile on his face. Oddly encouraged by this enthusiasm, Snape leaned forward. Though one of the green ones must surely have been mint, he dared not risk eating a slime-flavored bean, and it was impossible to tell apricot from vomit in the orange light from the fireplace. The red ones were likely to be safe -- cherry, cinnamon or corned beef, if not blood, a tang that had never repulsed Snape -- yet he experienced unguarded pleasure when his mouth filled with the taste of roses. Lupin remained bent over, studying the beans intently, and pointed to one of the green ones. "That is green apple," he announced, "and that one there is certainly mold, so don't touch it."

"My favorite was always caramel, but I couldn't be certain of telling it from birdseed," Snape admitted. Picking up the package, Lupin poked through it a little, then took out one of the beans and offered it to Snape. Warily he took it, noting that Lupin's hands were still very cold. The sweet-sticky taste warmed his mouth as he reached for his wand, flicking his wrist to build the fire. Then he frowned, glancing at Lupin. "I had thought that your metabolism would make you overly warm rather than chilly."

"One would expect so," Remus replied, holding out a bean. "Tangerine, I think? The rest of me is warm -- but my fingers simply will not cooperate." Taking the candy, Snape bit down and discovered that it was the far more rare spiced pumpkin. His hum of surprise made the other man smile. "Sometimes my sense is a little off. I'm only about eighty percent accurate. From which poor young witch or wizard did you confiscate these?"

In the moment that he hesitated, trying to think of a convincing culprit, a dreadful flush covered Snape's face, too rapidly for him to loosen his collar or blame on the blaze in the fireplace. Lupin looked befuddled -- worried, perhaps, that Snape would not wish to discuss life at Hogwarts with him -- and it came to him of a sudden that Lupin might miss the children who had once been his students, not connected with the adults in the Order who visited Grimmauld Place on occasion. An unlikely sense of guilt nagged at him. Silently he reached into his pocket again, withdrawing the bars of chocolate, which had become slightly soft from the heat of his own body. "They're from Honeydukes," he said shortly, not bothering to explain anything more about the beans.

Lupin's eyes fixed on him, startled at first, then suspiciously bright as he accepted the gift. "Thank you," was all he said. They ate quietly for several minutes -- Lupin the chocolate, Snape a pair of beans that looked identical but one tasted like seaweed while the other tasted like sage. The fire crackled as a burning log crumbled. Silences were often awkward between them, reminders of the many subjects they could not or would not discuss despite years of acquaintance, but when recently they had shared tea, Snape had been aware that Lupin was making an effort to be companionable, although these days Lupin rarely made an effort to speak to anyone at all. Now he added, "For so many years I'd hoped you could forgive me," in such a low voice that Snape might have pretended not to have heard.

Glancing over at Lupin, Snape wondered whether it would ever be possible to explain that he could forgive the werewolf, whose emergence was an unhappy fate that Lupin had managed to control responsibly save on two occasions, both unfortunately involving Snape. What he could not forgive was that Lupin had loved Sirius Black in spite of what Black had done to both of them; he doubted he would ever be able to forgive the casual cruelty that had nearly made himself a corpse and Lupin a murderer.

The man beside him appeared shrunken, old before his time -- certainly no sort of threat, although Snape had personally witnessed the horrifying transformation to werewolf more than once. A shudder of revulsion moved through his chest even as he acknowledged that he no longer felt the sickening dread the creature had held for him in his youth. Perhaps once the Death-Eaters had returned, his childhood fears had been transformed for good, because he knew too well that there were fates far worse than being torn apart by a werewolf.

"If you believe I still hate you for that prank that Black and Potter pulled, I accept that you had no part in it," he said, more harshly than he intended, but at least the words were there. Lupin only nodded, head lowered, eyes closed. Why, Snape still wanted to ask -- why Sirius Black, damn him, for all these years -- if it had been Potter, Snape might almost have understood, even though he had loathed Potter, because everyone had wanted to _be_ James Potter with his Quidditch trophies and his flock of admirers. Not even Potter would have been so cruel without Black goading him on. And, unlike Potter, black sheep Black must have known what it felt like to believe that he had nothing. Despite his popularity and charm, he had had that in common with Remus Lupin...Lupin, the prefect who had never, to Snape's knowledge, tried to stop his friends from their behavior.

"What can my forgiveness possibly mean to you?" he sighed.

"A great deal, Severus." Lupin sounded as old and tired as he looked. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself for some of the choices I made, nor for being such a coward. I sometimes wonder why I was placed in Gryffindor."

"Indeed?" asked Snape with bitter amusement. "Which house did you think of as the refuge of cowards?" For all the renowned bravado of Gryffindor, it had produced as many cowards like Pettigrew as true heroes. The loyalty of Hufflepuffs, the intelligence of Ravenclaws and the ambition of Slytherins often made them just as brave. Young witches and wizards were sorted when they first arrived at Hogwarts, shaping their houses and being shaped in turn by them; Snape had wondered at his own placement when he was first sorted, given his family's undistinguished bloodline and his preference for books and potions to the politics of the wizarding world. "We were very young," he muttered. "I must remember that, on occasion, when dealing with Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger and their ilk."

"Much younger," Lupin agreed, though he did not sound particularly convinced. "But that is not enough to bring me any peace about it." Snape sat silently with him, watching the firelight flicker across the surface of the beans, making them appear in hues that disguised their natures, though even the most innocuous vanilla-looking bean could prove to be earwax- or fungus-flavored on the inside. He suspected it would give Lupin no consolation to hear him say so.

Indeed, he felt little peace himself, not because of the distant past, but a more recent conflict between them. Shifting uncomfortably on the sagging sofa, he returned Lupin's apology with a thought he had tried not to dwell upon even in his own mind: "I should not have revealed your condition as I did at Hogwarts. I should have spoken to you first. I have sometimes wondered what might have happened differently, had there not been a vacant position on the faculty these past two years."

"Oh." The involuntary exclamation was hushed yet tremulous, like a soft cry of pain. Lupin lifted his head and clasped his fingers carefully in his lap, as if he wanted to be certain each hand would hold the other steady. "Oh," he said again. "I think...perhaps we had better agree that what's in the past is past, Severus." Snape nodded, feeling something akin to shame at the speed with which Lupin spoke the words, wondering whether he had hoped for such an opportunity without any real expectation that it would come to pass. "If Fudge was determined to infiltrate the faculty, there was little that Dumbledore could have done, whether or not there was an opening," observed Lupin with a smile devoid of blame. "And I daresay that the Ministry of Magic knew of my history even if the parents of Hogwarts students did not."

"Even so...I should not have simply announced what I might have discussed with you beforehand."

Lupin separated his crossed fingers to hold up a hand, signaling that it was enough. The hand trembled slightly, as did his voice when he spoke. "Thank you, Severus." It was true that the Ministry had known, and that if it had been left to Umbridge, Lupin's disgrace would have been far more bitter -- worse perhaps than her treatment of Trelawney -- but that did not negate Snape's betrayal. Still, he perceived no resentment, and as Lupin took another bite of chocolate, a wry smile crossed his face. "You never pitied me at all, did you."

Rather than answering at once, Snape reached for the package of beans on the table, picking curiously through several. "Do you suppose this one is blueberry, mint or tree mold?" he asked, showing it to Lupin, who studied it for a moment.

"That's tree mold." He peered into the package. "There seems to be a blueberry one...here." Putting down the light blue bean, Snape took the one Lupin offered and popped it into his mouth.

The flavor that burst across his tongue was strange, though not entirely unpleasant, and it took him a moment to guess at it: "Prune." Lupin laughed apologetically as Snape swallowed and continued stiffly, "No matter what you may think of me for my behavior at Hogwarts, I am not so cruel that I would have wished for Sirius Black's death, nor have I failed to understand the effect that it has had on you."

"That isn't what I meant." Lupin had dropped his eyes at Snape's mention of Black, but he regarded him directly once more. "The rest of it. Everything else that has happened, everything that I am. You don't feel sorry for me, do you?"

"I _am_ sorry, Lupin." Snape could only hope that the look on his face was closer to regret than bitterness, but he was not certain. "I have tried to sympathize, to understand at least...but I cannot say that I pity you. Dumbledore and others have gone to extraordinary lengths for you. Your parents were obviously devoted to you, they made certain that you were educated where many would have hidden their offspring away. And you have been loved. We are who we are; I see little benefit in wishing any of us could be otherwise, or in trying to recreate ourselves."

"You did." To his surprise, Lupin was smiling. "You became a Death-Eater, and then you turned your back on them. I've never felt that you felt sorry for me the way the other do -- poor Remus, his life is such a sad story. You've never made me feel fragile or second-best to Sirius and James even if that's damning praise from...what is it?

Very uncharacteristically, Snape had begun to laugh, and Lupin was blinking at him as if he had gone mad. "Do you honestly believe that I would be here if, as you say, I had turned my back on the Death-Eaters?" A hint of unease crept into Lupin's expression, and Snape had the impression that the hand sliding casually across his hip was hunting for his wand. This amused Snape even more. "Now are you thinking I might be working for both sides? Do you really believe that I could fool Dumbledore? What a change it would be to be so respected -- to have it believed that I might accomplish such a feat. Did you all think that I defied the Dark Lord and he said, 'Very well, Snape, obviously you've made your choice?' Or did you really believe that I might still be working for him, or feigning to do so, to further the interests of the Order? No: the Dark Lord let me go because he believed I would never be a threat to him -- he tried to kill an infant, but he let me walk away."

Lupin sat silently during this outburst, and when Snape fell silent, he picked up another bean, looking dissatisfied as he bit into it. "Liver."

Snape did not mind liver, cooked with onions and garlic, but when he bothered to eat sweets, he preferred them to be sugary and light. There was a bean on top that might have been mandarin orange but it might have been sharp cheddar, and another near it that could have been anything from cherry cobbler to rare steak to seafood bisque. "Sometimes I do wish Bertie Botts would put out bags of single flavors," he admitted.

"I would be satisfied with bags that were nothing but 'proper' sweets," Remus agreed, and took the top bean, eating it with a sigh. "Cheese."

"Don't spoil your supper," admonished Snape, even as he remembered Arthur Weasley's warning that they would be eating it early. "We'll be expected in the dining room shortly. Lupin...I believe I can say with certainty that Harry Potter does not pity you, nor do the twins, nor Moody, nor Dumbledore. I think it more likely that they pity me, given their low estimation of my skills; I can guess why they believe that Dumbledore needs me. I have always known that, as Potions-Master for the Order, I could be asked to create a poison to probe the thoughts or destroy the mind of an agent like Pettigrew or Barty Crouch. And I am fully capable of uttering an Unforgivable Curse should it be required, which would then remove me from my colleagues permanently. It's why the others accept a former Death-Eater so readily: if someone must take on that task, they would rather it be me."

"Pity you!" It was Lupin's turn to laugh. "I rather suspect that the younger ones are afraid of you, Severus, while your peers respect your skills -- do you have any idea how much it rankled Sirius to hear Dumbledore talk about your abilities as an Occlumens?" At the look on Lupin's face, Snape tried to interrupt, to turn the subject, but the other wizard was determined to have his say. "I know you think that I blame you for what happened at the Department of Mysteries the way Harry does, but Harry is still a child in some ways, and there are so many things that should have happened differently. Things we didn't see. Things Sirius didn't see. There is nothing we can do, any of us, to change the past. Nor, as you say, what we are. I _have_ wondered why Voldemort let you go, and I have also thought...what happened to Sirius must have happened for a reason. You could help me understand that reason, if you were willing."

Snape was still formulating a reply when a knock at the door interrupted. "Mrs. Weasley sent me to call you to dinner, Professor," Hermione Granger's voice floated in from the hallway. Miss Granger was certainly not afraid of him, reflected Snape with certainty, and the notion made him smile darkly, narrowing his eyes. She was bright and also ambitious, not content merely to do her best; she wanted the others to know how intelligent she was. Lupin was quite close with this generation of Gryffindors, and his beliefs and opinions would carry weight with them. This was, Snape understood, to the benefit of all of them.

Lupin was smiling as well, watching him. "Are you scheming, Severus?"

"Perhaps." It would not do to let Lupin know too much about his thoughts, and he fixed him with a steady, impassive gaze. "Shall we go down, then?"

A nod, and Lupin rose, leaning down to close the package of beans. "There's a charm I know to make them reveal their flavors," he told Snape. "But it's not completely accurate, because not everyone's tastes are the same. And sometimes people like to be surprised." Picking up what was left of the chocolate bar, the werewolf smiled again. "Thank you for this. It means more than I expect you realize." Snape nodded, already turned away from him toward the door, embarrassed. "Come, or we shall be late." As they moved to leave the room, Lupin disapparated the torn candy wrapper, putting the rest of the bar into a pocket for later.

"I think it's time, yes."


	3. Late to the Feast

The library at Grimmauld Place was quiet and still when Severus Snape entered well after midnight, his arms full of parchments he had brought from Hogwarts at the request of Hestia Jones. She had been the first witch back from the previous night's efforts, and was already working with Nymphadora Tonks to prevent a suspected infiltration of an obscure wizarding museum. None of the members of the Order was certain of which of the museum's possessions might be of interest to the Death Eaters, which of course meant that each of the items needed to be identified and studied, and the records from Hogwarts were quite thorough.

Snape was already setting the documents down on a table when from the edge of his fatigued vision he became aware of movement on the sofa. He had the impression of menace -- something with fierce claws and sharp teeth waiting to spring. Instantly alert, he pulled out his wand and would have uttered a spell to protect himself and sound the alarm at the same time, had a soft voice not interrupted him with a tired, "It's only me."

"Lupin, what are you doing awake at this hour, sitting in the dark?" demanded Snape in an irritated tone designed to cover his moment of fear. The full moon could not have set more than an hour before, and he had expected the wizard to be sleeping off the effects of his transformation -- and those of the potion that kept him tame -- until late the next morning. In a somewhat less aggressive voice, he continued, "I trust that there was not a problem with the Wolfsbane?"

"The potion worked perfectly, as always, thank you, Severus," Lupin replied with a strained smile. "I often feel uncomfortable, even ill, in the hours after the moon sets, and I thought I'd see whether reading might soothe the savage beast." Despite Snape's earlier impression of a monster lurking in the shadows, it was hard for him to think of the pale, sickly man on the sofa, wrapped in an old blanket and holding a book, as a threat. Snape waved his wand, charming the fireplace to illuminate the room, while Lupin reached out and picked up a teacup, pulling a bit of a face as he took a sip before setting the cup in its saucer again.

Under different circumstances, Snape might have asked what Lupin was reading out of politeness if not interest, but he did not wish to discuss the contents of the parchments he had brought from Hogwarts should the other wizard seek reciprocal conversation. He squinted to see whether he could determine the title of the book, but the worn spine revealed no visible lettering. "Are you enjoying yourself, or is that business?" he asked shortly.

"No, pleasure," Lupin replied, though it hardly sounded from his voice as if he enjoyed the book. With a bit of a wry smile, he added, "It's a history of werewolf cures through the ages, as compiled by a St. Mungo's Healer." Snape glanced at him, decided that there was no need to pry, and returned to the parchments he had brought with him, trying to put them into an order that would be useful to Jones. "The one combining oatmeal, honeysuckle and the blood of a virgin spilled at the winter solstice sounded particularly appealing, until I discovered that the base potion was made from wolf's urine and projectile vomiting is a common side effect." Snape was unable to keep the revulsion from his face, yet Lupin smiled with a certain satisfaction. "So you see, Wolfsbane is really a great improvement, and I thank you again for providing it."

With a sigh Snape gathered his papers into a single stack and locked it inside a wooden cabinet, where Jones and perhaps Dumbledore would pore over them, as they had planned, drawing their own conclusions no matter what Snape might suggest. Among the papers he had carried back, he was particularly interested in the listing of basilisk fangs kept at wizarding museums and the former owners of the relics. At one time he had begun a study on the relationships between parselmouths and their serpents, with a vague notion of disproving the ridiculous belief that there might be a connection between Tom Riddle's unusual talent, his House at Hogwarts and his eventual behavior. A majority of parselmouths became upstanding members of wizarding communities, just as a great many Slytherins became scholars and teachers rather than practitioners of the dark arts.

Yet there was suspicion of the House, and the ability to speak to snakes, and at one time Healers had thought to cure parselmouths of their abilities the way they tried to cure vampires and werewolves, whereas perpetual troublemakers like the current generation of Gryffindor youth were smiled upon benignly. "Am I to understand that to the best of your knowledge, it has been a quiet evening here?" he asked Lupin. "Our newest members have not seen fit to unleash any pranks upon the rest of us?"

"Very quiet," nodded Lupin with a trace of amusement. "Perhaps too much so. I'm not sure whether to be worried what the Weasley twins are plotting."

A quick sweep of the room convinced Snape that no extendable ears were present, at least for the moment. "I do suppose that they will be useful, once they outgrow their present obsession with pranks and dirty little jokes." He paused to study Lupin. "I've heard that they asked you and Black to teach them to become animagi."

With a little smile, Lupin nodded again. "They did indeed. But since Sirius was...well, they have not brought it up with me again."

Severus was startled by the smile. To this day he was not certain whether Lupin had known what his friends were planning, back in fifth year when Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew had undertaken the very difficult task of learning to take the forms of animals -- something they did not tell Dumbledore until many years later. Snape had been under the impression that Lupin discovered the plan only after the fact had been accomplished, but given that Lupin had hidden his friends' secret for more than a decade -- while Black was considered a dangerous criminal and Pettigrew was presumed dead -- Lupin's claim might not have been strictly the truth.

"Do you really think it wise to encourage Fred and George? Their mother would plague you with Howlers if she knew," Snape mused. "And with those two, merely the knowledge that something is possible can be encouragement enough..." He recalled an incident from one of his classes, the sort of prank Lupin's friends would have pulled in their day, involving a coalescing potion and a clumsy Slytherin student who might have been himself at the same age...flinching, he forced his mind to other matters. "I don't suppose there are any more of those biscuits?" Snape nodded at the plate beside Lupin's tea. "I haven't eaten since this morning."

"Please, take them -- I'm not hungry," said Lupin quickly, leaning forward to push the plate toward Snape, who retrieved a teacup and sat down to pour himself a cup. The biscuits were hard, stale, and more than one appeared to have had icing flaked off the top by a fingernail. Snape ate three anyway, wishing that the other members of the Order had not been opposed to bringing house-elves from Hogwarts to help with the cooking.

Almost as an afterthought, he said thank you to Lupin, pushing the plate back in his direction. "You should eat; your strength will return more quickly if you do." Though they never discussed it, Lupin was just as aware as Snape that Wolfsbane potion was toxic, made from a mixture of deadly poisons in precise combination to suppress the werewolf's strength without killing the host body. In the hours of recovery, large quantities of fluids and carbohydrates were recommended, but most werewolves found it difficult if not impossible to keep so much food down.

Snape studied the one beside him in the artificially bright glow from the fireplace. He had known that Lupin would age more quickly than other wizards of their age, a result of his condition, but in the past several months the process seemed to have sped up. Lupin's face was gray and drawn, his shoulders hunched, and his hands shook at unexpected moments. "You seem very tired," noted Snape.

Looking away, Lupin agreed, "I haven't been sleeping well."

"I might have a draught that could help you with that." Snape wondered whether Lupin was simply too proud to ask him for any further assistance. "Otherwise, are you quite all right?"

"Oh, yes, Severus, but I appreciate the offer." Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, Lupin offered a smile, yet even the most unobservant person could have seen that he was lying. His pulse was visible in the pale skin of his throat, and Snape recognized that it was too fast, perhaps because of accelerated metabolism or perhaps as a sign of incipient illness. He was about to say so when Lupin bit his lip and turned his face away, making Snape realize that he was neither sick nor suffering the ill effects of Wolfsbane, but uneasy.

"Shall I leave you to your..." he had begun when Lupin's hand closed around his wrist, long fingers icy against his forearm, causing him to shiver involuntarily as if a Dementor's talon had gripped him. That association led to another, and he remembered something else he had brought from Hogwarts, hidden in a pocket during the evening meal. Gently he maneuvered his hand free to reach into his robe, as Lupin spoke:

"No, don't leave. I want -- please, stay."

Lupin's head was still bent, apparently in shame at the plea in his voice or the emotion behind it. He was, Snape could see, very close to breaking, and perhaps Molly Weasley had been right to ask Snape whether he had ever grown up, because a part of him exulted in seeing Remus Lupin brought to begging, brought nearly to tears. Another part of him was paralyzed with embarrassment, with the worst of it being his own inexplicable urge to offer solace to a man who had never done the same for him, despite the easy comfort Lupin had established with students where it eluded Snape. "Take these," he said in a rather haughtily, professorial tone, pulling from his pocket a handful of chocolate leaves that had adorned the dining tables at Hogwarts. "And eat them, as you are so fond of recommending to others."

Lupin's eyes flickered to the intricately carved sweets, then, red-rimmed and heavy, to those of Snape, who felt unhappily as if he was being compared to Sirius Black and found wanting. His voice was even harsher as he spoke again: "You said you had no intention of taking drastic measures or abandoning the Order, therefore it stands to reason that you must take care of yourself." He paused, the obscure judgment hanging over him, and added, "And you must stop living in the past."

"I am not," Lupin retorted in the harshest voice Snape had ever heard him use, "living in the past. I know he's gone. Do you? I had thought the only possible good that might come out of it was that perhaps you and I would finally be able to speak to one another without two decades of resentment in the way, but perhaps it's simply too long to..."

The chocolate leaves, kept fresh while in Snape's pocket by a spell, had been melting on his fingers as Lupin spoke; now they slipped suddenly to the floor, a pile of brown and tan in the false autumn of the firelight, and Lupin caught his breath as he looked down. "I'm so sorry. I had no right to say that. Thank you for -- " Lupin's arm twisted in a helpless gesture, as though he wanted to pick the chocolate up from the floor but was uncertain whether the offer of the gift remained. Instead he caught Snape's wrist in his hand again. "Severus, forgive me."

Something in the wretched tone unleashed a memory. Snape could hear his own voice stammering out the same words -- _Lucius, forgive me_ \-- just as he could recall without effort the contempt that had glistened on the older wizard's face, and his own understanding that while he might be pardoned for minor transgressions, someone as insignificant as Snape could never be excused for who and what he was. It was precisely the same feeling Potter and Black had left him with years earlier. Why they had chosen to love a werewolf and despise a skinny, unexceptional Slytherin might have remained a mystery, but it had made him stronger -- strong enough to walk away from Malfoy and the Death-Eaters, when that moment came.

Though Snape had to twist at an uncomfortable angle while Lupin was still holding on to his wrist, he bent to retrieve the chocolate, restoring it to cool cleanliness with a spell. Lupin accepted it from his outstretched hand, taking a small bite, swallowing with difficulty. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Please understand...I had grown accustomed to having nothing. Then I had Hogwarts, and Sirius, and Harry, and suddenly I had something to lose again. I know you must have been hoping for the Dark Arts post yourself, and I know you must resent having to make sacrifices for the son of a man who treated you as James did, and I certainly don't blame you for it..."

"Don't try to guess what I'm thinking, Lupin, and don't patronize me," replied Snape in a weary voice. "It's hardly your responsibility."

"I'm not patronizing, I'm trying to explain," Lupin cut him off with a squeeze to his forearm. "During those years when Sirius was in prison, almost no one knew about me -- what I am -- and I couldn't imagine trusting anyone enough to tell. I lived in terror that someone would betray me. I could never keep a job for more than a few months at a time; I would miss work, and I was certain that if I explained why I was too ill to work, I would be lucky to escape with my freedom."

"Yet Mundungus finds work," Snape noted, pronouncing the name as if it were a disease. "The most disreputable among us find work. Surely you aren't the only werewolf in the world to have received an education..." At the look on Lupin's face and the tightened grip on his wrist, he chose not to complete the thought. "How can you know how any other wizard would react, if you don't tell anybody?"

Lupin's eyes were dark and haunted. "Sometimes, Severus, I just enjoy my life too much. It's not much of an existence, but I'm used to it. If I were to tell the wrong person...it only takes one." Snape was about to comment that it was not as if wizards regularly gathered in mobs to chase werewolves when remembered reading about an incident in the _Daily Prophet_; such stories made him acutely uncomfortable, and he only skimmed them, but it was enough to make him remember what irrational fear could do to an otherwise reasonable group of people. "There is always that chance that I would be...put away. They would have, you know, if James hadn't stopped you, if Sirius' prank had gone any further..."

It was true, and shocking to consider: if Black's prank had not been diverted, setting his best friend in the form of a werewolf upon an unsuspecting young wizard, it would likely have meant not only his own death but Lupin's permanent incarceration, or perhaps execution by an angry mob. Snape wasn't certain that twelve years in Azkaban was too great a punishment for the crime Black had tried to commit. Yet Lupin had continued to defend him, remaining his friend, staying loyal until he believed Black had betrayed one of their own.

"I had Sirius for a while," Remus was continuing. "I took jobs, here and there, but he helped support me with the money he'd inherited from his uncle. After that...I didn't want anyone's help."

"Whatever did you do, then, after I cost you your job at Hogwarts?" The words were cruel, intended for a different target than the man sitting with him, and Snape immediately bowed his head in apology. "It is regrettably that you left. Dumbledore offered me a teaching post when I left the Death-Eaters -- there must have been parents of students who knew, parents on both sides. I'm not sure how many people ever knew who I was, or would have risked identifying me after everything that had happened, but to this day I'm sure there are parents who would rather that I wasn't teaching their children." He glanced at Lupin. "Dumbledore would have fought for you, had you stayed. He fought quite stridently for you when I objected to your appointment in the first place. Hermione was likely not the only student to have figured you out."

"Dumbledore had risked quite enough on my behalf," Lupin insisted in the voice of a man reciting a rote answer to a question. His fingers detached at last from Snape's wrist, and he rubbed at his eyes. "You of all people should understand why I had to leave, Severus; I'd like to think it's why you gave away my secret, rather than pure spite. In my urgency to follow the trail to Peter and Sirius, I forgot what night it was. I forgot my potion. I could have killed any of you."

"Not spite," Snape agreed softly. "I had thought you understood the difference between hatred and fear. Though as I recall, neither Peter and Sirius, nor James, nor you ever needed a particular reason to despise me."

Lupin was quiet for a very long moment. "Severus...I did not despise you. As for Sirius and James, they never gave me a good explanation for why they treated you as they did. Not hatred, not fear, just -- I think they did it because they could."

Though this was not particularly a surprise, it hurt more than if they'd given a reason. If Severus Snape had said something, or done something, or stood for something that they resented, it would have been easier to accept their loathing. He had watched children for a generation now, and seen how the most popular among them were also sometimes the most insecure, but the knowledge came years too late to serve as consolation. Had circumstances been different, Snape could have taunted Sirius for having a mother who hated him, for living in a house of horrors, for preferring boys to girls; that was no comfort now. "It's hardly your responsibility," he muttered to Lupin. "As we agreed the other night, we were much younger."

"I'm still sorry you had to suffer."

"I wonder whether, of the two of us, you might have suffered more." Snape glanced at Lupin, whose eyes were fixed across the room. "It sounds as if you were lonelier than I was, those twelve years. I have always valued my privacy, but you were so devoted to your friends."

"They are the only people I have ever known to go out of their way to befriend a werewolf." The sound Lupin made was akin to laughter, but it was strained and bitter. "And for twelve years I believed that two of them were dead, killed by the third. Do I really need to explain the effect that had on my social interactions? I'll tell you the truth, Severus, I felt better after Voldemort's reappearance than I had for years. Sirius was back and everyone in the Order accepted him; I had meaningful work to do, and I was able to spend time with the children without being wholly responsible for their safety. Everyone who spends time in this house knows what I am and accepts it. If it hadn't been for..."

Snape waited, but Lupin did not finish the sentence. "I'm not saying it was easy," he said instead. "In fact, at times it was unbearable, with him trapped in this house, hating it, hating his situation..." Hating me, thought Snape but did not voice the thought. "It wasn't a very happy relationship but I was so focused on having him back, and having Harry to protect, that it was more than enough."

That strain had shown on Lupin. No wonder he had aged so visibly during his time in Grimmauld Place, despite having Black nearby and many of his former colleagues gathered once more. Snape's own former colleagues, the Death-Eaters, were likely gathered this early morning, now that the moon had set, plotting their next incursion, perhaps the expected assault upon the museum. In spite of everything that had happened, he felt a pang of nostalgia -- a recollection of working beside Lucius Malfoy, if not as a cherished colleague then at least as an insider accorded a certain status by the others.

"I have spoken to Dumbledore about how unwise I find it to have married couples and partners in the Order," he admitted to Lupin. "When Arthur Weasley was injured, and the work of his entire family came to a standstill, it was apparent that this little group might perhaps be too close. If things do not go well, and any of us are taken by the other side, the likelihood of hostages being used against us is very high indeed. If we must witness suffering and death in the coming conflict, it will be easier to face among people with less personal attachment to one another."

"And yet we know that we can trust one another," objected Lupin. "There is no question of unequal risk or sacrifice. If I must die, I find it easier to face with the knowledge that I am protecting the people who matter most to me, personally, as well as to our community."

Quite suddenly Snape found that he was drained, exhausted and chilled in the fading heat from the fire. The spot on his arm where the Dark Mark had once glowed was aching. "I have not been afraid to die for many years, not since I came to understand the alternative," he murmured. "But that is not the only concern. I have seen the price others have paid for their attachments...the Potters, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys. You."

Lupin appeared as tired as Snape felt, but he managed a smile. "I don't regret that price," he insisted. "I would rather have had Sirius for the time I did than live regretting what never was. And I won't live a prisoner of fear, either, I've done so for too long. I saw what it did to him, and whether you know it or not, I can see what it's done to you." A defiant look appeared in his eyes, intensely focused on Snape, who expected Lupin to say more, but after a moment the other man sat back slightly, and his fingers, which had nearly loosed their hold on Snape's wrist, brushed over his hand as he picked up the chocolate to take a bite.

Sitting very still, Snape contemplated the possible meaning of the words. No one who had known him intimately had ever made the mistake of real attachment, and Lupin was a stronger man than anyone involved in the pathetic encounters to which he'd surrendered after Lucius Malfoy. Still, Snape had paid for his own weakness, and he had no desire to see Lupin suffer, out of guilt or a misguided sense of loyalty. "If you are concerned about myself, I must tell you, Remus, that you need only remind me of who and what we are -- perhaps it would be enough to remind you of what _you_ are. You need not believe that my bringing you chocolate signifies any connection or obligation, and I trust that you will not expect..."

A nudge at his shoulder made him stop and shiver. He thought that the other man must be touching him, embracing him even, but in the moment that it took Snape to gather his wits and turn, he realized that Lupin had not heard his last words. Lupin was asleep, unable to hold his head upright; his chin had sunk to his chest, and his forehead had swayed against Snape's shoulder. At this proximity, even by firelight, Snape could clearly see the gray roots becoming dominant in Lupin's hair and the lines that even in sleep furrowed around his mouth and eyes. Soon he would look like an old man -- not ageless wizard like Dumbledore, but a scarred, sunken being like Filch, consumed within and without by the creature that controlled him.

Yet Snape remembered the brightness of Lupin's eyes and the smile that had covered his entire face when Snape had brought him chocolate from Honeyduke's, and he thought that despite the obvious signs of aging, Lupin still had a certain charm. He was not handsome like Malfoy, as few would ever be, but his easy smile was appealing, and unlike his old friends Black and Potter, his pleasure had never been drawn from the wickedness or suffering of others. Lupin's pale lips were parted in slumber and continued to shiver faintly. As Snape reached to pull the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, he found that he was pressed close, drawn to the warmth and a need for contact that would remain unmentionable in the daylight.

"The only way I know to lose your fears entirely," he murmured to the sleeping man, "is to reach a state where you have nothing left to lose at all." Lupin slept on, his face resting along Snape's collarbone. And although it would have been prudent to wake him and suggest that he take his rest in his own room, they sat together through what was left of the night, until the sounds of morning in Grimmauld Place began to emerge around them and the smell of brewing cocoa brought Lupin to awareness with a smile on his lips.


	4. Sealed with a Kiss

Because he was perceived as a gentle, somewhat shy man, it was often assumed that Remus Lupin must be reticent as well in erotic matters. Thus it was rare for his acquaintances to tell lewd jokes in his presence, even people like Mundungus and Rosmerta, and he rarely received propositions. In truth, however, when it came to sexuality, Remus had always been rather precocious. As a result of the cycle that turned him into a wolf each full moon, he had been interested from a young age in the body and its changes and urges; as a result of having the accelerated metabolism of a werewolf, he had reached puberty before his peers, and learned to hide his longings and compulsions at a time when most children were innocent of them.

He had, for a brief, intense period in his late youth, been entirely fulfilled, in love and sharing his bed with his best friend, Sirius Black, whose recklessness in other aspects of life became uninhibited delight during lovemaking. But doubt came between them, then tragedy so enormous that it changed their world. By the time Remus knew the truth, twelve years had been lost, to him and particularly to Sirius who was never the same afterwards. Living in Azkaban, guarded by Dementors which stole away every happy thought, Sirius had twisted his memories, changing them into less joyful recollections so that he could prevent them from being taken from him. But he was never able to experience pure gratification again, and despite how overjoyed Remus had been to have him back, being close to Sirius was complicated, requiring pain and pleasure in equal measure or Sirius would begin to panic and shut down.

Remus had nearly shut down himself after Sirius passed through the veil, devastated that after giving up so many years to wrongful imprisonment and torture, he was fated to lose what years might have remained to him. For months he wandered the halls of Grimmauld Place in a kind of daze, doing what work was asked of him because it gave him a reason to get out of bed in the mornings and trying to put on a brave face for Sirius' godson, Harry Potter, and for the children of other members of the Order of the Phoenix who visited the house that had belonged to Sirius. If Severus Snape had not dutifully produced his Wolfsbane potion each month and made certain that someone checked to see that he had taken it before the full moon, he might have locked himself away and torn at his own skin until he'd bled away the buried pain.

But he did take the potion, and was kept busy trying to keep up with the Death-Eaters who had caused Sirius' death, until eventually he discovered that he was not the only or even the most unhappy wizard in the Order of the Phoenix. He was surprised at first to think that Snape cared enough about him to try to draw him out; it was astonishing, therefore, to realize that Snape offered chocolate and conversation not only for Remus' benefit but for his own. Beneath his bitter sarcasm, Remus suspected, Snape was profoundly lonely -- so much so that perhaps that, rather than ambition or greed, had driven him to join the Death-Eaters many years before. Yet Snape had walked away from them, and from his mentor, Lucius Malfoy, who might well have served the same role in Severus' life as Sirius had for Remus.

Severus did not like to talk about his past, but the two of them were spending a rare afternoon together away from Grimmauld Place. It was several days past the full moon so Remus would not be a threat to anyone even if they should be caught away from home for more than a day. Several Death-Eaters had been seen in the vicinity of an undistinguished museum of the occult, and Minerva McGonagall -- who was not at liberty to travel, as there were Transfiguration classes scheduled that day at Hogwarts -- had asked them to see if they could ascertain what in the little archive might be of such interest to their enemies. In the course of travel and planning and investigation, Remus had learned things about Severus that he had never known. He was intrigued, eager to learn more...perhaps more so than might have been prudent.

"Malfoy took you to America?" he asked enthusiastically.

"To New Orleans," Severus nodded. "The Dark Arts are practiced quite differently there. The wizards have studied magical techniques from Africa and from extinct American tribes, unknown anywhere else in the world." He stepped cautiously into one of the small galleries off the museum's main corridor, glancing at a large brass telescope carved with letters from a language Remus didn't recognize. "Among the few remarkable features of this museum are its Voudou and Santeria collections, which might have been of interest to Malfoy or his master."

"I've done quite a bit of reading, and met American wizards at the Ministry, but to have visited! How I envy you..." The look on Severus' face, a mixture of disgust and nostalgia, made him quickly add, "...the opportunity for such research."

"I had thought, mistakenly, that we were there for a holiday," Severus said shortly. "Lucius prefers to investigate by sampling local experiences firsthand, and he did not choose to have me accompany him on all his adventures. There was little actual research." It was one of the few times Remus had ever heard Severus refer to another wizard by his first name. He started to ask about the other famed pleasures of New Orleans -- the food, the jazz, his favorite form of Muggle entertainment -- but the bitter, unhappy expression on Severus' face made him silence himself.

Remus had supposed from the head of Slytherin House's austere existence that he preferred to live quietly, spartan in his tastes and, if gossip could be trusted, very nearly celibate if not completely so these past several years. Yet when Severus spoke of Lucius Malfoy, Remus saw hints of another man entirely beneath the dour exterior -- certainly not romantic, but passionate, and bearing deep scars. For many years Remus had blamed mostly himself and Sirius and James for the darkness that Severus seemed to wear like his invariably black clothes. But as they moved through the silent museum, Remus found himself wondering about the aspects of the other wizard's past unknown to him...the pleasures and torments locked away inside him.

At present Severus appeared to be disconcerted by his mention of traveling with Malfoy, for he had buried himself in a cabinet filled with skulls and teeth from unusual animals, which he removed and inspected, one at a time. There appeared to be a set of werewolf fangs -- an unusual prize, for werewolves reverted to their human form once the full moon set even if they had been killed unless they were dismembered immediately. Remus was about to remark upon it when a faint noise in the corridor distracted him. The museum had been closed for more than an hour, and they should have been entirely alone.

He froze, instantly alert, looking behind him. "Did you hear that?"

With an irritated glance, Severus turned, head cocked. "No, nothing," he said suspiciously, as though he suspected that Lupin had said something merely to make conversation.

"Shh, listen--" Remus held up a hand, head cocked to the side. "That noise -- there -- from the hallway."

Severus moved so silently that Remus wondered whether he had cast a charm before stepping toward the curtain that separated the room from the corridor beyond. He craned his head forward, listening intently, but after a moment he shook his head.

"I'm certain I heard something. No one is supposed to be here. Except for us, of course..."

"Perhaps it was wood settling in one of the old..." Abruptly Severus broke off, jerking his head around. That time the fact of the sound had been inarguable, though it was still not clear what might have caused it. Remus leaned close to whisper:

"It has gotten progressively louder, Severus, and it sounds as though it is coming our way."

Severus stepped forward, grabbing Remus by the sleeve, and tugged him forward roughly so that Remus very nearly fell against him. For a single instant he thought wildly that Severus was about to kiss him. Then Severus hissed, against his face, "I suggest that we stop discussing it until we are able to ascertain what it might be." He nodded, and there was the noise again -- louder, clearer. Remus looked around again, then tugged Severus along behind him as he moved to duck behind a case mounted high on a wooden stand in a corner.

It was a tight fit, pressed up as they were against the two walls. Snape's sleeve caught on a jagged splinter protruding from the back of the case. His body jiggled against Remus as he tried to yank it free, sending a cloud of dust cascading onto them from above. Remus' eyes went quite wide and he let in a quick breath that he held -- dust had always bothered him, tickled his nose uncomfortably. Severus glanced over at him, raising a questioning eyebrow as he successfully tugged the sleeve loose with a soft but unmistakable tearing noise. Chest and shoulders heaving as he gasped again, Remus closed his eyes tightly shut. He wasn't entirely certain whether or not he could hold the sneeze in, and surely it would alert whoever was their to their presence. He felt his companion tense, then dig an elbow into him painfully as he reached for his wand.

"Immobilus!" breathed Severus, so silently that Remus could hardly hear the word. Everything stopped; the sneeze froze where it had started and Remus stared at Severus, having little choice in the matter, as they waited, the sound now quite certainly that of feet on the wooden floor. Severus opened his mouth as if he would apologize for putting Remus in such an uncomfortable position, but before he could shape a word with his lips, the feet stopped, and he turned, listening intently. Several tense moments passed. The museum fell into a deafening quiet. It seemed that whoever had entered the room was also listening quite intently, then the feet hurried off through the opposite door.

Remus would have breathed a sigh of relief had he been able to do so. Though Severus still had the wand raised in his hand, he did not immediately lift the spell, waiting until the footsteps could scarcely be heard. Then he coughed quietly as he spoke, clapping his free hand over his mouth the instant he had freed Remus from his unnatural stillness. Immediately Remus fumbled for his handkerchief, lifting it up and bending almost double as he sneezed into it. While he did so, Severus twisted his own arm to look at his torn sleeve, jabbing Remus sharply in the ribs. "Ow," he protested, softly.

"Terribly sorry," said Severus shortly before coughing again, trying to muffle the sound behind his hand.

"If they have gone, perhaps we should get out of this dusty corner."

Nodding, Severus moved to the side to give Remus room to step out. "I don't believe it was a 'them,'" he noted. "I heard only one set of footsteps."

Remus dusted off his robes. "Only one? For a moment it sounded as though he -- or she, I suppose -- was not alone. I must admit, however, that my mind was a little occupied."

Severus frowned slightly. "You did hear whoever it was coming before I did. Perhaps your hearing is more acute." He did not say the word "werewolf," though Remus was uncertain whether this was out of respect for his feelings or a refusal on Severus' part to remind himself of everything he distrusted in Lupin. "I could not think quickly how else to prevent you from sneezing," he added by way of apology for the uncomfortable immobilizing spell, an unusual concession from one who often dismissed the discomfort of himself and others as irrelevant.

Remus waved it off. "It's quite all right, Severus, it was a necessary action. It may have saved us both." He turned and peered into the case they had been hiding behind, staring into the lifeless eyes of an odd-looking little doll. Severus, meanwhile, was pointing his wand at the tear in his clothing and muttering a charm to repair it. Readjusting his wrist, he stepped past Remus to glance into the corridor while Remus followed him with his gaze. "Can you see anyone?"

The other wizard shook his head, but he was watching something intently far down the hallway, and a moment later Remus caught the flicker of movement low to the floor, making them both withdraw immediately. "An animagus perhaps," Severus whispered. "If he can turn into a dog or the like, he may have caught our scent."

"But he won't be able to identify us unless it's someone we already know." Severus' mouth was drawn into a grimace that made his lips nearly vanish as Remus urged him toward the back wall, away from the corridor. "Do you think we should Apparate? If whoever that was should return..."

But the other wizard's eyes had already been drawn away, to a cabinet in the far corner of the room. "There was no record of these being at this museum," he said, pointing. Remus could see a collection of wands in the case -- some broken, some made from wood that clearly came from outside Europe, a few ornamented in a manner he had never seen before. "Whose do you suppose they were? That one, with the long spiral end, was almost certainly carved in Asia, and -- why, Remus, I'm surprised at your inattentiveness. I believe that that one, third from the right, is from the wood of the cocoa tree."

Remus drew his eyes away from the wand that he he was studying, designed with a sharp point at the end, as if meant to be used as a dagger if its magic failed. He had never seen one like it before. "Mmm?" His gaze moved to the final wand in the row, and he fancied for a moment that he could smell it. "Oh -- I believe you're right."

"How odd that they should not have been catalogued among the museum's holdings," mused Severus. "If these are here, displayed in a case where it hardly seems as if anyone has gone to any trouble to disguise their presence, then in those cabinets..." Severus pursed his lips as he looked up at a pair of highly decorated upright dressers, which might have been preserved at the museum purely for their ornamentation. The doors had small keyholes, and did not respond to "alohamora" or any noninvasive unlocking charm that Severus tried. "Shall we investigate further?" he asked. "Or would it perhaps be prudent to wait until another occasion?"

With a speculative glance at the beautiful furniture, Remus noted, "If someone suspects that anyone has broken into the museum, they may not be here at another occasion."

A short, decisive nod, and Severus strode over to the cabinets. "Well, someone would appear not to want anyone inside you without permission," he said to the doors, amusing Remus as he ran a hand down over the wood. "There must be some way inside." Yet they didn't dare risk blasting them open, nor using magic to create any sort of aperture to look inside, and transparency spells proved ineffective. "Perhaps there's a password to open the lock." Snape began to run through some of the more common phrases used by various wizarding societies, from the comical "Abracadabra" to the onetime Order of Merlin code "He rides at Midsummer." He looked perfectly stunned when the cabinets suddenly sprang open at "Sealed with a kiss."

Remus smiled a little. "What an absolutely remarkable thing," he murmured. Severus, however, looked flustered and refused to return his glance, tugging out a thick scroll of parchment and beginning to untie the silk ribbon that held it.

"Didn't you ever give anyone a gift 'sealed with a kiss,' Lupin? When a package has been closed with that charm, one has to kiss the giver before it can be opened."

"As a matter of fact, I have received a few such gifts in my time," Remus replied as he reached past Severus for a small wooden box.

The parchment, which seemed to be endless, also did not seem to contain anything of interest to Severus; he was scrolling down and down, eyes moving, lips pursed and frowning slightly. "Then you know what must be done to reseal the packages if the recipients wish to keep them secret from prying eyes," he noted.

"Indeed I do," Remus replied, trying not to sound too terribly amused as he opened a compartment in the box, only to find that it was empty, though it did reveal another compartment -- and another, and another, almost endlessly.

"You do realize, Lupin, that these cabinets may not lock again unless..." Exasperated with the parchment, Severus put it down and picked up a tarnished silver pensieve. "Empty. I wonder why it's locked away, that being the case." There were also empty picture frames, a book whose entire text appeared to consist of verb conjugations in dozens of languages, and a long string of amber beads. "Any ideas why this is here?"

"A keepsake, perhaps..." Remus was quite focused on the little puzzle-box in his hands.

"But whose? And why keep them locked up, in a public museum, without any record?" The book was very old -- certainly centuries older than Voldemort, perhaps containing a code within its pages, but it would take time to break -- while the amber might have been millennia older, perhaps containing embedded insects or plant material from the ancient world.

"Of course it's possible that whatever was of interest to the Death-Eaters isn't in this locked cabinet at all, but on public display, which would make it harder to remove without notice...ah! Aha!" The box finally opened into a middle chamber, and Remus looked inside to see a very nondescript silver ring.

"It looks to me as if this might have been the private collection of a pathetic, secretive romantic," said Severus. "Invisible or missing pictures, jewelry, an endless scroll of very poor poetry. Though I don't understand the connection to the verb conjugations."

Remus examined the ring for a moment, then replaced it and closed up the box, thinking of the arithmancy textbook he had saved as a memento of the last class he took with both James and Sirius. "I'm not sure. An old memento from school, perhaps?"

"Did you save any of your textbooks for nostalgic purposes?" At Remus' silence, Severus made a soft noise of amusement and glanced at the top shelf, which appeared to contain unmarked -- and unremarkable -- glassware. None of the revealing spells turned up any hidden compartments within the cabinets, and the random collection of empty bottles, candy boxes and jewelry cases seemed to hold no greater secret than the onetime owner's identity...and that of the person or persons the items had been saved to commemorate. The back corners of the cabinet contained only cobwebs.

"This all seems to be entirely unremarkable." With a sigh, Severus stepped back from the cabinets and closed them, looking hopeful when they did not immediately open again. He uttered a locking spell and tugged; the doors parted at once. Remus looked at him for a moment, then down at the floor, then up at Severus again, but the dour-faced wizard was still avoiding his gaze; he stepped back from the cabinets, giving them his most furious glare, as if he expected to be obeyed out of fear.

Remus reached out and touched his shoulder, tentatively. "Severus." Snape's shoulders slumped in defeat; he turned, his expression little kinder to Remus than it had been to the cabinet. Then, abruptly, he grasped the collar of Remus' coat and tugged him forward, slamming their mouths together as if he feared catching an illness -- lycanthropy, perhaps.

Remus gave a startled little noise, reaching up to grasp both of Severus' arms, wanting to kiss him back but feeling very uncomfortable. Severus was staring at him, breathing more quickly than normal; after a moment his tongue crept out to lick his dry lips. "I thought you'd taste like chocolate," he said, and flushed, the most color Remus had ever seen in his face.

"What do I taste like?" Severus dropped his eyes, and Remus thought for a moment that he would scoff at the question, but he did not pull away from his hands. Feeling quite bold, Remus leaned towards him and kissed him again. "Does that help?" Unfortunately Severus appeared to have forgotten the question. He gazed at Lupin out of narrowed eyes, and only the odd twitch of his lower lip betrayed his confusion. Remus felt his cheeks grow warm and he stepped away to test the cabinet doors, which did not open as he tugged on them. "Well..."

The hand that siezed his shoulder gripped him so hard as it spun him back around that Remus might have protested, had Severus given him a single moment before pushing him back against the cabinet and pressing their mouths together once more, inelegantly and with surprising force. Another soft sound of surprise came up in his throat, but he held on to Severus' arms and returned the kiss, trying to make it more gentle, less demanding. Once Severus realized that Remus was not resisting, he stopped crushing him, loosening the powerful grip of his fingers. A moment later his lips parted and pursed, then broke away. "Perhaps you do taste like chocolate," he admitted reluctantly.

Remus smiled. "I certainly eat enough of it," he said softly. As if that settled the matter, Severus stepped back, glancing at the cabinet doors which now appeared to be firmly locked. He was still flushed, which on his pale skin made him appear almost feverish. Remus resisted an urge to touch Severus' face, glancing away for a moment. "Perhaps we had best go now, since it seems that our information about the museum might have been...incomplete."

Severus started to reply, but had to clear his throat before he could speak. "I do not doubt the information, only that we have learned enough to draw any conclusions," he said in something approximating his usual aggrieved tone. "Perhaps we need to go over the catalogue of holdings again. Or...it is possible that the most important artifacts have already been taken."

Remus nodded. "Yes, of course. Shall we...ah..." The thought was never completed, for Severus pulled out his wand and strode toward the exit. He paused to look up and down the corridor before stepping into it, giving Remus a moment to catch up. Pulling out his own wand, Remus asked a little hesitantly, "Will you be returning to headquarters or Hogwarts?"

Severus paused, looking sideways at him, and Remus had the impression that he was carefully choosing his words. He was prepared for even greater coldness than usual, and it came as something of a surprise when his dour-faced companion replied finally, "I suppose that if we're to produce a report together, it would be better if I accompanied you to Grimmauld Place."

"Very true," Remus agreed with another nod, trying not to display too much enthusiasm at the unexpected affability. "Well, then, I shall see you at the way-station." He glanced at Snape again, then took a careful listen -- to reassure himself that they were alone -- before apparating to the nearby inn where the Order kept a room from which to operate in the north.

Snape popped in beside him, glanced around the small, dingy room with its worn sofa and oversized bed, then stiffened and straightened his clothing. "Perhaps we might have something to eat before using the floo network to return to London," he said somewhat crossly and strode to the door, walking briskly down the stairs, striding through the parlor without so much as a glance around and sweeping out the front door with a pause just long enough to be certain that Remus was following. ""We are surrounded by the usual assortment of pubs, inns and overpriced restaurants. And there is a tea room with passable coffee and chocolate."

"Coffee and chocolate sound lovely, but I would not at all object to a proper meal -- I'm famished."

Severus appeared to be weighing his desire for a proper meal against the probable crowds and possible spies in a pub, but in the end, hunger won out: he led them to a dimly lit place at the end of the street, requesting a table far from the noise and smoke near the kitchen. Remus sat and looked around, noting that no one seemed to really be paying them much attention at all. Still, Severus told him in a murmur, "Speak of nothing of importance; I have met wizards from both sides in this place." In a somewhat louder voice, he said, "Do you really find Muggle clothing better-made than anything you could purchase in Diagon Alley?"

Remus shrugged a little, then reached out for the cup of coffee that arrived at the table and landed in front of him. "It depends entirely on where either kind of clothing is bought."

"Those cardigans of yours, for instance." Severus was speaking to Remus but his concentration was entirely focused upon a man two tables away, studying them as he adjusted his chair -- possibly to make room for his girth, but possibly to eavesdrop upon their conversation. "Are they particularly comfortable?"

"Oh, yes, very comfortable." Remus adjusted his own chair a little, taking another glance around the pub. "I'm very fond of them."

"So I've noticed." Severus' gaze returned to Remus, apparently satisfied that they were not being overheard, before he glanced away again as if embarrassed to have been caught paying attention to Remus' attire. Fortunately a large plate of bread and cheese arrived just at that moment, and he turned his full attention to eating. Remus watched as he bit into a slice of bread, trying to think of something neutral to say. They ate in silence for several minutes, and when the soup arrived they spoke only of the quality of the vegetables.

It was an awkward meal, with something of the quality of a first date, though Remus was quite certain Severus would have been taken aback at that notion. When the meal was finished, Remus glanced at dessert menu which appeared on the wall above them and said, a little shyly, "I see that they have chocolate pudding. Would you mind terribly if we lingered a little while longer?"

Snape glanced at the clock beside the menu, but only nodded as if he had expected this. "When we get back, we shall have to work late," he noted "Ah. Lupin. On the report...I don't believe that it is necessary to mention the particular type of locking charm used on the cabinets."

"No, I don't see any reason why it would be necessary." The relief on the other wizard's face was so pronounced that Remus had to swallow a smile, though privately he thought that Minerva would think nothing of it, while Dumbledore would have appreciated the humor of the situation. Nevertheless, Severus became much more pleasant thereafter and ate quite a bit of chocolate pudding himself.

Furtively they walked back to the inn, carefully chosen by the Order -- because of the place's less than respectable reputation, it was assumed that visitors might be of the sort who would need to apparate quickly or use the floo network, so all fees were paid in advance. They would return to Grimmauld Place via different stops along the network. "I will see you shortly, I trust," said Snape before tossing powder into the fireplace and vanishing. Remus took up his own handful of powder and, in a short while, stepped from a large fireplace into more familiar surroundings, dusting off his clothing. He found Snape in the study already looking over parchments. "Is anything popping out at you this time around?" he asked, stepping up to the table.

"Popping out?" Severus asked him blankly, turning over the parchment as if he expected the literal emergence of an artifact. "No, I'm afraid I have had no brilliant insights in your absence, Lupin." Remus pulled a parchment closer as he sat down, looking over it and hoping that one of them would have some sort of epiphany as he noted that Severus already had set a quill recording their findings in the most bland, straightforward language imaginable. "I suppose we may be sent back. I am noticing many things we saw on display that are not, in fact, on this list. Do you remember a table with small figurines, African in origin perhaps, that..." He broke off as the door opened and Molly Weasley stepped partway into the room, saw the two of them, smiled brightly at them and withdrew just as quickly.

Remus rubbed at his eyes. "Molly seems rather...pleased with herself."

Severus scowled after her. "I'm surprised she didn't ask if we wanted tea."

"She obviously didn't want to interrupt. Now...I do remember the figurines. What else do you remember that isn't on this list?"

Frowning again, Severus recalled, "Some skulls and animal bones -- I believe that there was a set of jaws belonging to a werewolf." He glanced almost apologetically at Lupin. "Then the wands, of course, and the entire contents of _those_ cabinets." The quill had stopped writing, and he picked up the completed report to skim. "We shall have to speak to the others. Perhaps one of them will have an idea why such a small museum would leave any of these items off its list of inventory."

Remus nodded. "Yes. Fresh perspective would undoubtedly be very useful." His own perspective seemed to him anything but fresh, as he had grown quite tired, yet he was reluctant to suggest that they conclude their work and call it a night. This was the friendliest he and Severus had ever been, though he had braced himself for chilliness or even the contempt he had grown used to over the course of many months.

"Then are we finished here?" Snape looked uncomfortable again. "Lupin -- if there is any awkwardness about that charm..."

"I don't feel awkward about it, Severus."

"Very good, then." His tone belied his words, and under the short statement hovered a question as put down the parchment, but did not rise. "Is there anything we've overlooked?" Remus shook his head in reply, focused on Severus' face, wishing that he would meet his eyes, but Severus looked as uncomfortable as Remus had seen him since back in their school days, adding, "I will see you at breakfast. If we think of anything we have forgotten, we can add it then. Until then."

Slowly, Severus gathered the parchments and rose. Remus got to his feet as well. "Sleep well." There was a long moment of hesitation during which both of them faced the door yet neither moved. "Severus --"

He turned back so quickly that the papers in his arms blew free, falling to the floor, and they both knelt at once to retrieve them. "Yes?" he asked.

Remus felt his face grow warm, as he really didn't have anything in particular that he wanted to say. "Ah..." Their hands collided as both reached for the same scroll, and Severus' fingers closed around Remus' wrist. His pupils dilated, and for a moment it was impossible to tell whether he was furious or moved. Then his head bent fractionally in an awkward nod, palm sliding forward until they were clasping hands.

Remus leaned forward and kissed him, softly, finding it returned with the same caution, though after a moment Severus tilted his head and Remus could feel his lips moving curiously over his own. He had to hold himself back from the urge to pull Severus closer, to deepen the kiss; he did not want to frighten the other man, but the sudden heat in his body made him undeniably aware of how much he had wanted this. After a moment, torn between joy and safety, he withdrew.

Severus let him, but his lips remained parted, and after a moment they curved slightly. "You still taste like chocolate, Lupin," he said in a tone Remus had believed at one time to be purely condescending, but the hint of a smile belied the disdain.

Taking up the argument, Remus lifted his chin. "Surely that's not possible, so long after the pudding."

"Perhaps I have come to associate it so strongly with you that I cannot tell the difference." Wrapping the parchments under his arm, Severus rose to his feet, drawing Remus up alongside him by the hand that still clasped his own. He released it as soon as they were standing, offering a formal goodnight, yet Remus found himself smiling as he crept upstairs past sleeping paintings to fall into an exhausted slumber.

He and Severus barely had time to exchange greetings in the morning before the professor had to return to Hogwarts, leaving Remus with the parchments and a number of questions about the museum from Minerva. That evening, however, he found a box of chocolates waiting for him in his room. His pleasure was tempered momentarily by the discovery that the box would not open; it had been charmed. Then his smile returned, and he went in search of Severus to break the seal.


	5. Sleepless

Alastor Moody noticed first. Of course it would have been Moody, thought Remus Lupin, shaking his head and smiling as he walked away with a sealed phial that Moody had placed in his hand, growling, "Give this to Snape when you see him; he'll know what to do with it." With his Auror training and his all-seeing eye, Moody often made discoveries before anyone else. Molly Weasley, of course, had known from the start -- had known before either Remus or Severus Snape had given any real thought to letting go the past, trying to forge a connection in the uncertain present at Grimmauld Place where they lived as if under siege. The members of the Order of the Phoenix had much greater matters to occupy their attention than the personal lives of the witches and wizards who belonged to it, but that didn't stop a lively interest nonetheless.

Mad-Eye Moody was unlikely to share any speculation of that nature unless he thought an affair might damage the Order or any of its members. And Molly would never jeopardize her matchmaking by bragging about it to anyone but her husband, who tended to blush about such things when confronted with the details, despite having fathered a substantial brood. But sooner or later, the others were bound to figure out how things stood. Remus had already caught Tonks studying himself and Severus together in the library one evening, and he was certain that Minerva had suspected as well, when she asked them jointly to investigate a museum.

Eventually, if it continued, the others would know. Harry Potter would find out. At which point it was possible that there might be significant damage. Yet that was not proving to be enough of a reason to consider ending it...not even close to enough, thought Remus with another smile and a pleasant heat coming into his face as he heard Severus' voice in the kitchen, snapping in annoyance at Molly as she asked him about various students at Hogwarts.

Severus wore irritability like a shield; it prevented all but those who truly had something to say to him from attempting to make conversation with him, but a few individuals persisted, Molly being the most relentless. Remus was beginning to suspect that beneath his exasperation, Severus had both respect and affection for her. This particular evening, however, his tone sounded particularly aggravated, and when Remus stepped into the kitchen to be greeted with a curt nod rather than a hint of a smile, he knew that something must be wrong beyond the usual frustrations with students and difficulties within the Order. He also knew that he dared not ask.

Based on various remarks each of them had made, Remus was under the impression that Albus Dumbledore had encouraged Severus to reestablish his ties to his former associates among the Death-Eaters. It was safer for everyone if Snape worked alone and if the head of the Order alone knew of his dealings with them, but Remus couldn't help but be aware when Severus was inexplicably absent, nor when he returned to headquarters in a particularly foul mood. At such times Severus tended to avoid others, particularly Remus, which had seemed hurtful until he realized that Severus was only trying to spare him his temper.

Thus Remus expected, when he knocked on Severus' door, that he would likely be met with coldness if not outright hostility. He was surprised to be admitted instead with little more protest than a sigh and the words, "Oh. Lupin. Well, come in." With a tired flick of his wand he brought over a second cup to the small table by the sofa and poured tea for Remus. "Is this about the last report? Or did you need something else?"

"I didn't need anything at all," Remus replied, picking up the teacup and blowing on the steam rising from it. "Alastor Moody asked me to give you this -- " Reaching into a pocket to retrieve the phial, he placed it on the table beside the saucer. "And I thought you might like some company. You seemed unhappy when I saw you in the kitchen earlier."

"That's generally a reason to avoid my company, not to seek it out, isn't it?" asked Severus in a tone of warning, but Remus could hear resignation beneath it, and it occurred to him of a sudden that he was not certain, in all his life, whether Severus had ever had anyone he could go to when misery drove him to seek contact, as Remus had had Sirius, James, Peter and Lily at a time when he most needed people to whom he could turn. Withdrawing his own wand, he murmured words to make the fire burn a little warmer and moved closer to Severus on the couch.

It was easy to see that Severus was uncomfortable; he opened his mouth more than once as if he wished to say something, only to close it and frown as he stared down at his teacup. Remus himself could think of nothing to say that didn't strike him as an inane attempt to start conversation, but he sat and watched the fire and drank his tea, and finally said, "The house doesn't feel right tonight."

"I was unaware that this house ever achieved an ideal of comfort," Severus replied. "If you are having trouble sleeping, I can certainly fix you a draught."

"I'm not having trouble sleeping; on days when I have no work to do for the Order, I fear I sleep too much." Now that he was paying attention to such things, Remus thought that under the condescension in the potions master's tone he heard concern, or at the very least a desire to be useful. "Perhaps it's the effect of too many raids. Though I know that you're under more pressure than I am, with your teaching responsibilities." Reaching up, he rubbed Severus' shoulder with his palm.

"The work is certainly not more than I can bear," Snape retorted in a somewhat irritated tone, but he did not tense or move away from Remus' hand. "I'm quite well. You've no need to add to your concerns by worrying about me." Encouraged by the stillness of the man under his hand, Remus moved closer to him, reaching across his back to his other shoulder. "There's no need," insisted Severus in the same weary voice, then added a declaration that would have made Remus smile, were he not being careful to cause no offense: "If you want to touch me, Lupin, at least stop pretending it's for my own sake."

It was very nearly an invitation, and Remus accepted it gladly, pulling Severus gently against him and putting his arms around him. The response came more slowly, with a somewhat aggrieved sigh, as if Snape wanted to make it clear that he was only conceding to Lupin's necessity by returning the hug. Smiling a little as he stroked his back, Remus murmured, "I keep thinking about all the things I need to do over the next few days, reminding myself in case I forget..."

"I am certain that I can find you a spare Rememberall, if you would like to borrow it. I have confiscated several from students who didn't know enough not to use them for silly games."

"But a Rememberall wouldn't tell me what I had forgotten, only that I'd overlooked something." Warmth radiated from Severus' neck, and his lanky hair smelled surprisingly good -- perhaps he had charmed it, though more likely he had been in a room somewhere filled with burning incense and the smoky sweetness clung to him.

Cautiously Remus brushed his lips against Severus' cheek and continued to rub his back, feeling the other wizard drop his head fractionally, letting out a long breath. Very quietly, Remus admitted, "I missed you earlier." He expected a rebuke, to be informed that Snape had had important work to finish, yet he received only a hum that sounded suspiciously pleased as Severus let his forehead rest against his shoulder. The small intimacy loosened Remus' tongue and he added, "I worry about you when you aren't here."

"You might just as well worry about any of us."

"I do worry about the others, but I daresay that the raids are harder on you than on most of them." He felt Severus stiffen, preparing to object, and stroked his shoulders again. "Listen, there's something I want to explain to you. You asked me once whether it was worse knowing that Sirius was dead than believing that he had killed my best friends, and I've been asking myself the same question ever since. I think guilt was the only thing that kept me alive the first few months, all those years ago, when I thought Sirius had betrayed James and Lily when we had all trusted him. This time, after he fell, I didn't see how I could survive losing him again, but you've made me realize that it does change everything -- knowing that he was innocent, and free, and that he died defending the things that mattered most to him. I can afford to try to remember the good in him, and in James, and I don't feel as though I must wake up every morning only to make up for the past. But I also know that for you, things are different."

Severus had gone rigid in his arms, but he wasn't yet attempting to pull away, so Remus forced himself to continue, worrying that the other wizard would not want to hear yet certain that they would never understand one another without the conversation. "I want to explain something to you about Sirius." At this Severus did lift his head, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a grimace, but Remus shook his head. "Let me talk, and then, if you wish, you may tell me how much you must always despise him. I wish I could tell you that Sirius would have wanted it otherwise, but I can't. For the last two years he defined his connection to you with the same aversion I know you felt toward him. He was a very damaged man, Severus."

The black eyes were not so much looking at Remus as boring through him, and he quickly pressed on. "You know what the Dementors do -- they steal away every happy memory and leave only the worst, unhappy, twisted recollections behind. Sirius lived in their midst for twelve years. Apart from being able to turn into a dog and simplify his emotions, the only reason he survived with his memories intact was that he was so bitter and so angry, not even Azkaban could rob him of them. Don't you see -- it wasn't just you whom he couldn't forgive. The Sirius who came back from that place hated me as much as loved me. He could be caring and protective and passionate only because he'd been resentful and hurt, for so long that all those feelings had blended together. I think Harry was the only person he could love unconditionally, because Harry had been a baby -- in Azkaban he existed only as an idea for Sirius, not really a memory of a person he had known."

Quiet for a moment, Remus studied his companion. Severus sat very still, his eyes hooded and unreadable, and his mouth had tightened even more; nevertheless, he had not pulled away from Remus' hands. Apart from breathing, not a muscle in his body seemed to move, making Remus wonder how he could hold himself so rigid. "Do you understand why I'm telling you this?" Remus asked him. "I can only imagine what it must cost you to see Lucius Malfoy and his friends now, to know what they've done, and to know that you are expected to strike at them -- the very people who were once your closest companions. But I do have some experience with watching love turned to loathing, and the cost of that."

Severus was silent for so long that Remus was certain he had breached the acceptable boundaries of their association, such as it was. He had not seemed to blink once during Remus' soliloquy, as if he had withdrawn to a place so deep within himself that neither the words nor even the air could penetrate. Yet he waited, unmoving, and when it became apparent to him that Remus planned to say nothing further, he shifted his weight, so suddenly that Remus tilted and would have slid off the sofa had Severus not caught his arm.

"Was that meant as a confession, Lupin, or a statement of solidarity?" The words were hardly compassionate, but beneath the impassivity of Severus' gaze, something was kindling and it didn't appear to be anger -- at least, not anger directed at Remus. "If you are looking for sympathy, then I will say it is a pity that an unjust imprisonment caused you and your lover so much suffering. And I am truly sorry if you suffered at Black's hands, when you never deserved..."

He bit back the rest of the sentence, though Remus strongly suspected Severus had been about to say that with Black, being made to suffer sometimes had nothing to do with whether one deserved it. "Let me assure you, however, that you have no need to console me over whatever feelings you think I have for any of my former associates. You know very little of my prior -- " Suddenly his mouth twisted as if he did not like the flavor of the word he would have spoken, and he concluded in a rather more subdued tone, "One does not have to have been held by Dementors to experience the loss of one's most pleasant memories."

Remus' mouth felt very dry. Rather than turn and break contact with Severus, he muttered an accio command, making his teacup float half-full into his hand; the cold tea soothed his throat, but he realized that he had grown quite chilly sitting before the dying fire, despite being so close to the other wizard, who looked pale and tired. "What did he do to you, Severus?" he asked softly, meaning Voldemort, inquiring almost rhetorically, but his companion shot him a fierce glance, dropped his gaze to glower at the floor and answered a different question altogether.

"I don't remember the first time I..." Severus fell silent, swallowing with some difficulty. His shoulder jerked in an odd shrug, and to Remus' surprise he laughed softly. Freeing his hand from Remus' arm, he gestured toward the bed. As his eyes followed the movement, Remus blinked at the bed, then at the man beside him, trying to figure out exactly what he was telling him. Surely he couldn't have meant...? With a twist of his mouth, Severus confirmed, "He -- Malfoy. Lucius. Didn't want me to remember. He used a charm on me to make me forget."

It felt as if every muscle in Remus' body had frozen at once, and he was glad of it, because he had a overwhelming urge to smash something -- perhaps many things, starting with the teacup in his hand. This was why Severus could be so still, he realized, because the alternative to absolute control would have been chaos. The only words he could think to say would have impugned Lucius Malfoy's parentage, person and erotic proclivities, and all of them were likely inaccurate, but Remus couldn't bring himself to care. With very great force of will he placed the teacup on the table and took Severus' hand.

Severus scarcely seemed to notice the pressure on his fingers, though his faltering speech righted itself and he spoke clearly and calmly. "Of course, such as he was, he couldn't resist bragging about it to me afterward, so I learned of it from him. I have wondered which would be worse -- having one's happy memories taken away, or never to have had them in the first place. In any event, I could only think to ask him to do it again, so that I could remember."

Sudden pressure on Remus' fingers made him discover that he was squeezing Severus' too tightly; he forced his hand to relax, though he knew that he was having no such success keeping his nostrils from flaring, nor his mouth from twisting in fury. Sirius had hurt him badly -- had cried out terrible things in the height of passion, and, worse, had asked Remus for pain, begged even, because for twelve years he was only capable of experiencing pleasure along with anguish to hold off the Dementors. But the deliberate cruelty that Severus described was unlike anything Remus could had imagined.

The dark eyes were on him again, still calm and strangely benevolent. "I don't expect -- "

Quicker than thought, Remus closed his eyes and lifted Severus' hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. "I would promise you," he began, pausing to swallow. "I would promise never to hurt you."

Though he had followed the movement of his fingers to Remus' lips without showing any emotion, Severus suddenly jerked his hand free, flinching visibly. "No one can promise that."

"It's not...it's never something I would strive to do," Remus tried to explain.

"Don't you understand?" Now Severus was looking at him, devoid of the serene expression he had worn before. "When he hurt me, deliberately, I knew that he was paying attention, and that he attached importance to the act. It was far easier to bear than when Black and Potter did the things they did, for absolutely no reason that anyone could fathom. It's not being hurt that -- "

Remus interrupted him out of desperation, pulling Severus roughly into his arms, biting down on his own lip and hoping the other man couldn't see that he had tears in his eyes. It was largely a futile hope; he wished only that Severus would not be so repulsed by his weakness that he would push him away. Yet Severus did not, and after a moment he said, "Lupin. I apologize. I've no right to place any of this on your shoulders."

"No, no, don't be sorry..." Remus' voice was shaking, and the trembling only spread into his arms when Severus moved his hands up to hold on to him, though he knew it was meant as a gesture of kindness.

"It would be unfair to expect you never to hurt me. I know that many of your choices cannot be your own." At first Remus thought he was referring to his lycanthropy, and to the long-ago attack that was evidently destined to remain between them, perhaps always, but Severus continued, "If Harry Potter were to discover that you were here with me, like this, can you imagine what he might do? You are one of very few adults he trusts. He has become increasingly rebellious. You cannot afford to risk alienating him, and even if you were willing, it would be too dangerous, at a time when the Order must comprehend his purposes and movements. Too much is at stake for me to burden you with things that should have ceased to matter long ago."

"Obviously they haven't ceased to matter."

"That is my own concern. It should not affect your judgment." Remus shook his head, but Severus insisted, "You must not make any misguided attempts to protect my feelings, such as they are. Dumbledore understands this: he has never had the slightest compunction about demanding that I extend special privileges to Potter, even over my explicit objections."

Managing a smile, Remus kissed his temple. "Severus, don't imagine that I would ever treat you as though you were fragile. But that doesn't mean that I can't wish to spare you pain."

After a moment, Severus nodded. "I only hope you understand, Lupin, that it would be foolish to cause yourself pain in an effort to spare me."

"Ah, but my own pain is far easier to cope with -- I've lived with it for long enough."

"In that case, consider that it would also be self-defeating."

The voice was Professor Snape's, the same clinical tone in which he reminded Remus unnecessarily each month to be certain to take his potion with time to spare before the full moon, which Remus had long attributed to fear -- fear that the wolf might break free and attack him and others. Now he wondered how he had never noticed the shame and regret it disguised, though he thought hazily that perhaps he might be imagining things; his head felt heavy, and he realized that Severus was gradually slumping against him. Sighing softly, Remus closed his eyes. It was several minutes before he realized that he had become unaware of his surroundings beyond the warmth pressed against him...that he was falling asleep.

Severus shook him gently. "Lupin. We will both be very stiff tomorrow if we remain here for much longer."

"Oh." The hands urging him upright felt as clumsy as his legs, and he caught Severus' arm when they stood. "Will you let me..." Unable to think how, or even what, to ask, he glanced over at the bed, expecting a flat rejection before he could even form the question, but Severus waited with an air of expectation that seemed almost hopeful. "Stay," Remus whispered. The word hung in the air like a plea before his onetime adversary nodded.

"I suppose you are as likely to stumble across someone outside if you leave at this late hour as you are if you creep out in the morning."

Remus wanted to keep touching him, to take his hand and lead him to the bed, but he was afraid it would seem like a demand, so he settled for walking over himself and folding the outer layers of his clothing on top of the dresser. While Severus sat at the foot of the bed and, methodically, removed his shoes, he slipped beneath the blanket, listening as his unlikely bunkmate commanded the flames in the room to quench themselves, one by one.

When Severus had finished, he got under the covers, lying rather stiffly on his back. Turning alongside him, Remus briefly pressed their hands together, whispering a quiet goodnight. The reply was muttered, but it made him smile, and as he drifted off to sleep he realized why: Severus hadn't called him Lupin. He'd said, "Sleep well, Remus."


	6. Better Than Chocolate

A rap on the door so startled Remus -- who had nearly fallen asleep while reading -- that he fell off his sofa, dropping his book to the floor. A late knock at Grimmauld Place usually meant bad news, so Remus' heart was pounding before he was even sitting upright. Had someone made a worrisome discovery, or had a raid gone wrong? Had Severus...? "Come in," he called, wondering just how late it was; he'd been in the library for several hours in the evening, and reading in his room for longer still.

"Are you all right?" came a stern voice from the doorway as a figure stepped through from the dark hallway, taking in Remus' rumpled clothes and bleary expression. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Oh -- come sit, Severus, please." Running a hand through the hair falling over his eyes, Remus smiled happily up at the black-clad wizard's wary face. "I had come close to falling asleep. I was woken quite early because two of the paintings got into a debate about how tall Caradoc Dearborn had been. Then Molly insisted that I come to breakfast..." Accepting the dropped book from Severus' outstretched fingers, he searched to mark the page where he had lost his concentration. "What brings you to Grimmauld Place at this hour?"

"I have business with Moody," Snape explained shortly, and from his tone Remus understood that he ought not to inquire further. "Mrs. Weasley is perhaps correct, however, that you spend too much time shut in here reading."

"I was in the library earlier. There is not a great deal to do when Dumbledore doesn't have me working on something."

"Then he has not spoken to you, either, about the relics the Death-Eaters are apparently collecting?"

Remus shook his head. "No, Severus, I'm afraid not." It seemed to him that Albus Dumbledore was keeping different members of the Order working on different problems -- raids, recruitment, study, defense -- rather than risking any one of them knowing too much, and thus becoming a potential target. But his companion was frowning, and Remus wondered if Severus suspected that the two of them had specifically had this information kept from them. Setting his book down on the table, he asked, "Do you need any help with whatever you're working on? Is that why you've come?"

Severus' eyes averted, and Remus had the impression that he was embarrassed. "No. I was merely passing by your door, and since I was not here for dinner..."

With a little smile, Remus interrupted him. "I'm glad to see you. I know it's late, but we could go down, if you like, to find you something to eat."

"That will not be necessary. I ate at Hogwarts. I only thought that I would see how you were."

Remus' smile broadened. "I'm quite well, Severus. And you?"

"As well as can be expected. I had to discipline a group of third-year Gryffindors for using their cauldrons to make an itching powder to use to torment the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"Itching powder?" That made him smile more, though the potions teacher was wearing his sternest professorial expression. "I hope that you weren't too terribly hard on them."

"I am certain that they will have finished several parchments on the probability of skin damage from the misuse of itching powder within a week," said Severus with a certain degree of satisfaction. Essays seemed like a rather lenient punishment for such a transgression, and Remus was not surprised when he added, "Of course, I also deducted fifty points from Gryffindor. For each student. I daresay they will not try it again."

A little teasingly, Remus warned, "I'm sure the entire House is very upset with you now, Professor Snape."

"Really? How devastating." Professor Snape kept his expression impassive, but his eyes flickered as he added, "My heart would break, if I had one."

On impulse Remus reached for Severus' hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing his palm, while Severus watched with a mixture of surprise and curiosity on his face. "Heartless, Severus?"

"Every Gryffindor I have ever met has seemed to believe so."

"I'm a Gryffindor," protested Remus.

"And what a pity that is. Think what you might have accomplished as a Slytherin." Remus rolled his eyes but said nothing, instead tugging on the hand to draw Severus close. His glare offered a challenge, but Severus' voice was amused as he added, "You might have learned self-control from my House, Lupin, and not developed your weakness for these." From a pocket he pulled a box of Honeydukes chocolates. "I had to pass through Hogsmeade for some ingredients, and I thought..."

There was no holding back the delighted laugh that burst from Remus' throat, nor the impulse to throw his arms around Severus, who accepted the embrace with an awkward stiffness that only made Remus want to do it again. "How very _sweet_," he grinned, sitting back to open the box, finding a chocolate covered cherry and biting into it with a tiny noise of appreciation. "Thank you."

Snape, who had startling spots of color in his pale cheeks, drew his eyebrows together, forcing a stern frown. "Are they stale? Usually when you are enjoying chocolate, you're a great deal more vocal about it -- obscenely vocal, at times."

"Oh, they're quite fresh." Remus held out the box, but Severus held up his hand to indicate that he didn't want any. "Really, they're very good." Taking another, he closed his eyes as he chewed, allowing a moan to escape his throat. "Here, try one."

"Chocolate covered cherries are too sweet for my taste." Yet Severus ate one anyway while Remus, licking chocolate from his own lips, encouraged him with a groan. He thought that Severus swallowed a smile along with the candy when the other wizard said haughtily, "Now you are trying to make me envious of chocolate."

"I most certainly am not." There was heat in Remus' cheeks, and what he suspected was a helpless grin pushing it back toward his ears. "I can't help it if I'm...enthusiastic."

"Your enemies would need only to feed you these and you would tell them everything."

"That's hardly true. I'd simply sit there moaning." At this the potions master gave him a wicked look, then abruptly held the box of chocolates high above his head, out of Remus' reach. "Severus!" He leaned across him to grasp at the box. "Just one more. Please."

The box remained high above the head of Professor Snape, who still looked amused. "And what will you give me in exchange, Lupin?"

The way Severus said his name -- rolling the L as if he were licking it -- must have been more obscene than any noise Remus made when he ate chocolate, for his entire body responded to the sound. He whimpered softly. "What do you want? A galleon? A kiss?" He had all but crawled into Severus' lap to get at the sweets, and Severus was not particularly struggling to escape, though he did move the box just out of reach again.

"There, you see? You would promise anything for chocolate." Severus tilted his arm slightly at Remus' tug, and one of the pieces fell. Picking it up with his free hand, Severus popped it into his own mouth. Unable to resist for another moment, Remus took Severus' face in his hands and kissed him, trying to steal the candy with his tongue; he was quite gratified to hear Severus' soft protest as his lips parted and he yielded up the melting chocolate.

"Now who's vocal?"

"You surprised me. That was cheating, Lupin. Two hundred points from Gryffindor." With a wide smile, Remus yanked the box from Severus' unresisting hands, settling fully in his lap to examine it. After poking through two layers of chocolates, he selected one and ate it, letting out an indiscreet moan and pressing close as he did so. Severus was delightfully aroused, and pushed up against him quite shamelessly, though he wore Professor Snape's sternest expression as he said, "I don't suppose that you can tell which of these contain caramel."

Remus offered him a piece. "Try this one." With an arch look, Severus took it, licking at the chocolate melting on Lupin's finger as he did so and making Remus groan again, though he had no candy left in his mouth at the moment. "Naughty, Severus. I assume you must like caramel?" He let the damp fingertip lightly stroke one flushed cheek.

The skin beneath his finger twitched in response as Severus replied, "I am very fond of caramel. It is the only reason I have ever been willing to risk encountering a mud-flavored Bertie Botts Bean." With an indulgent smile, Remus offered him another square, frowning when Severus took both candy and box from his hands, putting them down behind himself on the sofa. "But I believe that I have had enough. And you have chocolate smeared over your lips."

Sitting up straighter, he licked at Remus' mouth as if to clean it. Though he had whimpered as the chocolates disappeared, Remus kissed him, a feeling as warm and melting as the sweets when Severus' arms tightened around him.

"I wonder whether I will ever be able to enjoy chocolate again without thinking of you, Lupin," the dark-eyed wizard said thoughtfully before closing his lids and opening his mouth, offering Remus his tongue, sticky-sweet with caramel. Remus licked at it gratefully, his hand coming up to stroke Severus' chest and shoulder. After a moment Severus took the hand, lowered his head and sucked on Remus' fingers. "You've gotten chocolate everywhere," he chided, though there was no real displeasure in his voice, and a breathy moan escaped him when he added, "You taste absurdly sweet to me."

"You taste wonderfully sweet to me." Catching his mouth, Remus kissed him again, sucking on his tongue and rubbing against him so enthusiastically that Severus moved both his hands around his back and down, until he was squeezing him tightly. Breaking the kiss to gasp for breath, Remus rocked back and forth over him and was rewarded with another helpless sound of pleasure. "Also, you feel very, very good."

"Eager, are you?" Nodding, blushing faintly, Remus smiled as Severus licked at his lips again. "What brought this on? The chocolate? Or the phase of the moon?"

"You. You did. Just having you here..." He tried to catch Severus' mouth, and sucked on his tongue when he succeeded, whimpering softly. Somewhat aggressively, the other man pulled back, giving him a glare.

"I tell you now, I won't be a substitute for Black."

Was that all that had been keeping him distant for so many days? "You're not, Severus." The words carried all the conviction with which they were spoken. "I don't want you to be. I want you to be you." Remus stared at him, wide-eyed, feeling himself studied before Severus lowered his eyes, making a vaguely conciliatory gesture with his open palms.

"In that case, I apologize. I am not..."

"Don't apologize. Just let it go, and let me touch you." Remus hoped his last words had not sounded like a plea. He tugged at Severus' hands as Severus shifted his weight, got his arm trapped by a sleeve caught behind his back, gave an irritated tug and yanked his robe open. When Remus pulled back to start pulling off his own clothing, the other man wriggled out from under him. With a soft wail of protest he cried, "Severus!"

But his fellow wizard had only removed his wand from the robe he was discarding, using it to put a locking spell on the door and a silencing charm on the room. Setting the wand on the table, he moved back toward Remus, who accidentally jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow while tugging free of his cardigan. Severus grunted faintly. "We are getting too old for this."

"Too old to make love?"

From the astonished, belittling glare Severus gave him, Remus thought he had made a great mistake in his choice of question, but Severus only replied, "Too old to do it on a sofa, Lupin. Though perhaps I am also too old to go through these awkward initial encounters."

Remus smiled gently. "If we keep practicing, Severus, it won't be awkward." This amused his companion, who sat back and made his long sleeves unbutton with a spell.

"How will we know when we have become experts?"

"When you no longer say that it feels awkward." The doubt in Severus' eyes as he stood, removing and folding his robes, made Remus sad. "Or, at the very least, when we can no longer say that we are having 'initial' encounters." Yet the other wizard's eyes remained wary, devoid of the caustic affection that had been present a few minutes earlier, and there was no mockery in his next question:

"How long do you expect that to take? Or is it foolish to discuss expectations?"

"I don't know, Severus." Remus held out a hand to him. "I would like it, very much, if you were...happy, with me."

Severus looked at the extended palm for so long that Remus very nearly let the hand drop back to his side, feeling humiliated and baffled at the change; but just as he was about to do so, the other man slowly reached out his own arm and closed his fingers around Remus' hand. In a low voice, he said, "It would be foolish of you to make my happiness a condition of your own."

"It's not a condition, just wishful thinking, perhaps." Remus tugged their joined hands to his mouth. "Do you want me?"

At first Severus declined to answer the question, which was hurtful -- perhaps more than it should have been, since Severus rarely bothered to answer questions to which he believed the answers should have been obvious, and when he did reply it was generally to deride the questioners. But Remus' growing distress must have communicated itself, because again Severus squeezed his fingers and dropped his eyes. "Do you believe I would be here if I did not?"

"No." And it was answer enough: enough to remind Remus that this man who had barely tolerated his presence, who put his own pride and dignity above happiness, had offered him chocolate and laughter and was standing half-undressed in his room, probably waiting to be taken to bed. Humbled, Remus smiled again, unable to muster the playful mischief with which they had wrestled over the candy, though as Severus stepped forward and they kissed with greater passion than they had before, he found suddenly that he did not want the humor that was equal parts defense and deferral. Taking both of Severus' hands in his own, he drew him over to the bed.

They removed the rest of one another's clothing, kissing and touching skin as it was uncovered and making Remus shiver when his scars were exposed. He knew that they would not shock Severus the way they sometimes upset strangers -- even trained Healers could not always hide their horror -- but the instinctual fear of being thought too ugly welled up, and he grew tense. Severus must have felt it in his muscles, because he was surprisingly gentle, stroking deliberately over the blemishes on his skin, and Remus thought he seemed self-conscious too, though he was reasonably fit and well-proportioned. Of course, if Severus had spent time with Lucius Malfoy, then no wonder if he felt unattractive by comparison. And, perhaps, no wonder if Severus did not mind what Remus looked like; Lucius was a perfect example of beauty that was only skin-deep.

He reached to kiss him again, the press of flesh on flesh luring a fierce, intoxicating desire to the surface, much stronger than the giddy arousal he had felt earlier. With a soft sigh Severus let himself be pushed back against a pillow, but he raised a hand to Remus' chest. "Do not hope that I will be able to see you, when...during the full moon."

"Shh..." Remus touched his mouth with a fingertip, then kissed him, and as Severus' lips parted under his, he reflected briefly that he was probably quite happy not to have to discuss the topic further. "Perhaps you should tell me what you'd like tonight."

"Perhaps you should tell me what you're accustomed to." Severus' eyelids lowered, clouding his expression, and a trace of bitterness twisted his mouth. "If you expect submission. Or to be taken. Or for me to read your mind and guess what it is that you want, or if anything that humilates me will be enough."

"I expect to give and take. That is what would please me most." Remus did not even want to imagine what events in Severus' past had prompted the last comment, biting his lip as the other man nodded guardedly. "But what do _you_ want?" In the silence that followed, when Remus could very nearly smell the urgency and fear that pulsed through Severus, he stroked his cheek and smiled bashfully at him. "Why don't you show me. Show me what you like."

Severus caught the hand on his face, put it on his chest and leaned up to kiss him again, putting his other hand on Remus' throat and stroking downward. While he returned the kiss, Remus stroked his thumb back and forth across Severus' skin, following the movements when Severus' hand swept below his own on his body and slid over to a nipple, brushing over it and then rolling it gently between two fingers. He gasped softly, feeling Severus twitch against his thigh, and heard the soft question, "Do you like that, or does it bother you?"

"Oh, they are very sensitive. But I like it." Severus' thumb moved in a circle, then straight across the hardening flesh, and Remus had to close his eyes as he gasped again, his own hands stilling for fear of scratching as his fingers curled in response to the delicious tension in his body. "Severus. Oh." He felt movement beneath him, Severus sliding downward, lowering his mouth to suck the nipple as Remus cried out softly and tangled his fingers in Severus' hair, trying to hold him there. "Oh -- oh, that feels... feels so good." His cock was throbbing against wiry chest hair, and a hand was rubbing his lower back, drifting over his buttocks and up. "Please, Severus, again. Your mouth...oh."

Somehow, from the vague request, Severus understood what he wanted, pushing him onto his side as he slid down and put his mouth just where Remus wanted it, bringing his hands around to stroke. Remus shuddered hard, trying to stifle a cry before remembering the vague disappointment when he had failed to show his enthusiasm for the chocolates in full voice. Then he wailed a little, clutching at a shoulder. "That -- so good, oh, _Severus_!"

Severus was licking and sucking as if Remus were candy, using his hands and nose and chin with enthusiasm that Remus would never have expected of him. He himself was moaning a great deal more loudly than he ever had while eating dessert or anything else, even the superb Muggle Belgian chocolate that Hermione Granger's parents had sent. The effort of not rushing Severus was making him shake, though apparently Severus could feel it, because he freed his mouth for a moment to murmur, "If you want something, tell me."

"Just...more. Ohhplease."

"Greedy, Lupin." Severus raised an eyebrow, and Remus swore he was smirking before he lowered his head again, taking Remus in deeper, stroking him faster, until he couldn't hold back anymore and surrendered his pleasure with a shout that would have been heard throughout the house without the silencing charm. He collapsed flat on the mattress, trying to catch his breath, as Severus lifted his head.

"Well? Do I taste like chocolate?" he asked to break the uncertain quiet.

"No," said Severus thoughtfully, touching a finger to his damp, swollen lower lip. "But I told you, most chocolates are too sweet for me." He crawled up when Remus tugged on his arm, a bit discomfited beneath the complacent smile. "And I'd no idea you would be so loud." Again Severus licked his mouth thoughtfully, while Remus blushed scarlet. "You present such a quiet face to the world. Most of the time." Leaning up to kiss him, Remus sucked at his lips and was amused when they parted for his tongue. "I suppose I'd always assumed that Black and Potter corrupted you."

"Oh, I'm afraid that's not entirely true." Remus slid a hand down his chest again, over his belly and lower, until Severus gave a soft distracted grunt. "I'm afraid I've always been somewhat..."

"Tell me later." It was Professor Snape's voice, the low dangerous order that would be dangerous to disobey, but his eyes were wild, and he was quickly, gratifyingly responsive when Remus moved down and made further conversation impossible. He would never have taken Severus to be a screamer, but perhaps it made sense that once his complicated defensive barriers were down, so were his restraints on expressing his enjoyment. It was delightful to know that, whatever Voldemort and the Death-Eaters and Lucius Malfoy had done to Severus Snape, they had not deprived him entirely of the capacity for pleasure...and to know that he, Remus Lupin, could give it to him so easily, now that Severus was letting him.

Afterward Remus held him, resting his forehead against the other wizard's shoulder. "Thank you," he told Severus quietly.

"No...thank you, Lupin." The cheekbone pressed against the side of his face warmed with a flush. "May I hope that you are content?"

"Oh, you shouldn't even have to ask! If it hadn't been for that charm of yours, everyone in this part of the city would know." Severus chuckled softly at this. "There is however one small matter troubling me, a blight on my happiness..."

The mattress lurched under him as Severus shifted to look at him. "What is it?"

Remus bit his lip. "I would like one more chocolate covered cherry."

With an amused snort, Severus leaned over the side of the bed for his wand and summoned the box of chocolates to them. Plucking out a cherry, he put it in Remus' mouth, then found a caramel for himself and pulled the candy in a long arc between his teeth and hand until it fell against his chin. Remus nibbled it off with a soft moan of pleasure.

"You are a very licentious eater," Professor Snape informed him. "You groan. You lick your fingers. I have watched you suck icing from a fork in a manner that was very nearly pornographic."

"How kind of you to notice," said Remus, blushing. "I like chocolate, Severus. I've gone through rather long periods of loneliness, but chocolate has always been there for me."

"Ah. That explains why you more than like chocolate. You make a fetish of it." With wide, innocent eyes, Remus looked at him and gasped, but Severus continued, "When was the last time you went an entire week without chocolate?"

"...I haven't," admitted Remus, blushing more.

"You have not at some point in your adult life gone an entire week without chocolate?"

"No. But I can stretch it out very well, having, say, one chocolate covered almond a day, after dinner..."

Severus rolled over to look directly at him, face pinched with what looked to the world like meanness but Remus now recognized as a sort of contained glee. "Do you believe you could give up chocolate for a week?"

"Yes, if I was given incentive."

"What would constitute 'incentive?'"

"Some...other kind of dessert."

"I see." Remus had never thought of Severus as a gambling man, but he did enjoy the rivalries of Quidditch and had always been quite competitive with his peers. Now his eyes held the flash of triumph of a man about to play a winning move at wizard's chess. "Would you rather go a week without chocolate or a week without..." Severus' eyes dropped to the mattress. Remus looked at him speculatively.

"Whichever I gave up...would I be guaranteed to have the other every day of that week?" When Severus stared at him impassively, he smiled brightly and attempted to clarify: "You'll stay with me, every night for a week, if I give up chocolate?"

"Must it always be at night? My schedule may make that impossible." Snape flicked his tongue between his teeth where Remus could see it, wiping chocolate from them, very nearly licking his lips. "But I do suppose that I could arrange to visit at other times."

"Oh, if you wanted to do it in the afternoon, or after breakfast, I certainly wouldn't object. When would you like to start, seeing as I've already had chocolate today?"

"What a disappointment. Of course, we've already..." He indicated the bed with an inclination of his chin. "I suppose that means I'll have to wait until tomorrow to offer to distract you."

"We could keep practicing in the meantime." Remus smiled sweetly.

"No, Lupin, that would be cheating. And then I would have to take more points from Gryffindor." Sighing, Remus had another chocolate, moaning aloud and letting his head fall back; unfortunately Severus watched this display impassively before he, too, fished around in the box for one of the sweets.

When they had finished, Remus lifted Severus' fingers and licked at them, though there was remarkably little melted chocolate anywhere on Severus even though neither of them had yet uttered a scourgifying spell. "Please tell me you can stay," he said.

"At Grimmauld Place? I had not planned to return to Hogwarts until tomorrow. It is essential that I speak to Moody." His expression was almost apologetic as he added, "I'm sure you recall that phial he asked you to deliver to me. I have analyzed the contents, but I have no context for understanding their purpose."

"What was in it? If you can talk about it, that is."

Severus hesitated, but then he moved closer to Lupin and spoke in a low, confidential tone. "I'm not entirely certain why the Aurors insist on secrecy even within the Order. If they fear a spy, I would imagine that I would be the first person they would suspect, but they continue to send me work. The ingredients in that phial were ancient -- mostly herbs and chemicals used by the Egyptians to mummify human remains."

The news sounded as though it might bear some link to the artifacts in the museum they had investigated, yet Remus could not immediately come up with a connection. "If the Death-Eaters are experimenting with ways to cheat death, preserve bodies or bring back the deceased..." he began, but the logic eluded him. The only thing that seemed clear was that Voldemort's interests, and his reach, evidently extended outside of Europe. "Have you asked Molly and Arthur? They took a family vacation to Egypt a few years back, didn't they?"

"No, I have not." The potions master frowned again. "And I am not certain that I should involve them. I will ask the headmaster in the morning."

Severus made a curious habit of calling Dumbledore "Headmaster," even when they were not at Hogwarts. It was oddly endearing, one of the few signs of unquestioned deference displayed by Professor Snape to anyone, and Remus smiled gently at it. "Then stay tonight," he repeated.

Once more wary, Severus looked at him. "Did you mean, stay here?"

"Yes. That is, if you want to."

His -- lover, thought Remus, he could call him that now -- gave him a shy glance as he touched his hand. "Will you...share your caramels?"

"Of course I will. They're yours, now. No chocolate for me, remember?"

"One can't be too certain with you, Lupin." The look on Severus' face had grown warmer, though he was blushing again. "I know what value you place upon chocolate."

Remus returned his smile wolfishly. "Given the choice, Severus...I would rather eat you."


	7. Recanting

Bright discs of chocolate in crisp sugar shells taunted Remus Lupin from the cover of the box on the table. He ignored them, as he had pointedly ignored them all afternoon, from the moment a smiling Molly Weasley had delivered the parcel of Muggle confections sent by Hermione Granger's parents. Though he greatly appreciated it, unfortunately he could not try the chocolate eggs, nor the bar filled with almonds, nor these purple, blue, pink and yellow circles.

Behind him he heard an indrawn breath and turned to face the guest who had followed him discreetly to his room after supper. "I see a great deal of chocolate. Have you reneged on our agreement, Lupin?" Severus asked in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"Certainly not! I haven't touched any of it. But it was a gift from the Grangers." Remus scarcely knew Hermione's parents, and wondered whether the package had been Molly's suggestion. "I couldn't very well give it all away. If Hermione found out, I'm sure she would believe that I had an aversion to Muggle food, and it would hurt her feelings."

"How very kind of Miss Granger to have her parents send you chocolate," remarked Severus. "It isn't as if she needs assistance from you to maintain her marks. She must have a special fondness for you." It was apparent from the wry tone that he believed Hermione had a crush on her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and Remus turned rather red, turning away to open the box of coated chocolate and spill a pale green disc into Severus' hand.

"Here...have one." He waited for Severus to put it in his mouth, chewing cautiously as if he expected the non-magical candy to poison him, then lunged forward and kissed him, urgent for the taste of both Severus and of the chocolate he had forsworn for a week. But Severus was perfectly aware of what Remus was up to, and kissed along his jaw instead.

Tilting back his head, Remus whimpered until the other man relented, kissing and letting Remus lick at his lips. With a rather wicked expression Severus lifted two more of the candies to his mouth and offered them out on his tongue until Remus took them gratefully with his own, kissing him in the process. "Don't believe that this excuses you from our bargain, Lupin."

"I've no wish to be excused from our bargain," Remus assured Severus, nuzzling his ear to hide a smile. He had wondered whether, in the light of day, Severus might himself regret the impulsive promise to exchange intimacies for abstention from chocolate; from the stern, undemonstrative potions master, an ongoing concern that Lupin not betray their terms came close to an admission of desire. "I've been waiting here all day, thinking of you, without even chocolate to distract me..."

That confession earned him an approving hum, and Severus drew back. Dropping the box of candy back onto the table, he began to undo the outrageous number of buttons on his sleeve. It was Remus' turn to groan softly while he watched the careful fingers work the silver dots through the small holes. "Doesn't that infuriate you?"

"There is, of course, a spell to unbutton them all quickly, but some things are worth waiting for, wouldn't you say?" Severus smiled slowly at him as he gradually worked open the sleeve and pulled his arm free. After another taste of the upturned lips, Remus turned his attention to unfastening the front of Severus' robes while Severus began to unbutton his other sleeve with his arms draped around Remus' back. "I see that I have made you impatient. I suppose I should look for chocolate cologne, but then everyone would know..."

"Yes, because I would spend all day licking you," chuckled Remus.

"That would enliven some of the Order meetings. Mundungus Fletcher might even stay awake."

"But we would certainly get scolded when I tried to climb into your lap." Kissing him again, Remus pushed the unclasped robes off his shoulders until they fell to the floor in a heap. A muttered charm made them rise to fold themselves neatly over the arm of the sofa. Urging Severus down beside them, Remus straddled his legs and bent to brush his lips along Severus' jaw, smiling when their hands encountered each other on the buttons of his own cardigan. "On the other hand there might be advantages to having me sit in your lap -- it would free up a chair."

"It would indeed, though that was not an advantage I had in mind." Severus inhaled sharply as Remus brushed a hand over the front of his trousers, which bulged noticeably. Torn between unfastening them and removing the rest of his own clothing, which he was folding piece by piece over the sofa back, Remus wriggled against the swelling and smiled to see Severus bite his lip to stifle a moan. "As you see, I am not as comfortable as most chairs."

This was certainly not true, thought Remus, finding and stroking warm skin. "Anyone who isn't as bony as I am is really very comfortable."

A hand traveled down his ribcage, moved along his side and traced the well-defined jut of his hip. "I suppose that I should not deny you your chocolate, as it seems to be your primary form of sustenance."

"Oh, no, I had a very large breakfast today. And lunch. And two apples." Both of Severus' hands slipped around his back and down, curving, until they settled on his bottom and squeezed. "Two apples," repeated Remus happily. "And biscuits. And a lollipop, but not chocolate." For emphasis, he licked Severus' throat.

"I see that you've kept your mouth busy."

"Actually, I was thinking about you when I had that lollipop." Remus kissed along his jaw. "You would have been teaching your last class of the day..."

Breath catching, Professor Snape warned, "Do not give me reason to have difficulty concentrating while teaching." Remus looked at him with wide, innocent eyes before grinning and sliding down to lick a nipple. "I cannot imagine why a lollipop should make you think of my classroom."

"Oh, it didn't." Flicking out his tongue again, Remus let his feet drop to the floor, taking his weight off of Severus. "What I really wanted..." He licked a bit lower. "...was to sit you down..." The unfastened trousers slid easily over Severus' hips and down his thighs. "...kneel between your legs..." A harsh groan met his ears when he ran his tongue down to the hair low on Severus' belly. "...take you in my mouth."

With another groan, Severus pushed up to meet Remus' lips while Remus' fingers found and teased the nipple he had been licking earlier. "I was afraid you would say that. Now I shall have to take an antaphrodisiac potion tomorrow before my last class to avoid embarrassing myself." Remus could not reply, for his lips and tongue and the muscles in his cheeks were quite occupied, but he tugged on the nipple again. Fresh moisture leaked into his mouth, salty-bitter after the brief taste of chocolate; he spread it with his tongue. "Don't torture me," insisted Severus with a ragged edge in his voice, grasping Remus' wrist. "Harder, please..."

Severus' skin felt unusually warm, and as Remus glanced up he realized that the Dark Mark was pressed against his own forearm. He wondered whether it had burned so since Voldemort's return, or whether arousal and pleasure triggered it to ache. Perhaps Severus, like Sirius, required a high level of distraction for release. With a yank on the nipple, Remus bobbed his head to take him in deep and swallowed convulsively, becoming much less gentle with his tongue and teeth as he drew up and down again.

The cry this drew from Severus sounded more pleased than pained, though a moment later Remus realized that neither of them had put a silencing charm on the room, and despite his jokes about the Order he really had no wish to let everyone in Grimmauld Place know what they were doing. With a regretful sigh he drew back, groped for his wand and uttered the spell that would prevent any sound from escaping into the hallway. Quite flushed, Severus straightened and rose, drawing Remus upright with him. The two of them discarded what clothing they still wore, though Severus, too, kept his wand; in these troubled times, Remus doubted whether he ever let it out of his sight.

"Would you not be more comfortable on the bed?" asked Severus. Nodding, Remus reached for his hand, but before he could tug Severus across the room with him, the other wizard murmured "Wingardium leviosa" and flicked his wrist. Remus found himself floating off the ground and rising as if on warm puffs of air. He was overwhelmed by embarrassment and elation, caught between wanting to cover himself and the impulse to fling himself forward and fly.

A moment later Severus had turned the wand back upon himself, muttered a different charm and leapt into the air beside him, catching his arms and twirling him around. Yelping, Remus clutched at his shoulders, but he hardly recognized the man who smiled, pulling him close, and said, "You won't fall." They were moving, slowly, toward the bed, still spinning as if they were dancing, and after a few moments Severus tugged on Remus' hip and rolled his weight until they were horizontal to the floor. The perspective was unnerving, though Remus could not feel the effects of gravity under the spell that Severus had used, and he closed his eyes and clung tightly until he felt himself flipped upright to hover just above the bed. His heart was pounding, and he felt lightheaded.

"Better?" inquired Severus, who then emitted a small grunt of surprise as Remus swooped close to kiss him, quite startled himself to discover that Severus would indulge in such unrestrained playfulness. "I assure you, there's no chocolate left on my lips." He let Remus drop with a small bounce onto the thick mattress, eliciting another yelp while he drifted down more slowly beside him. "If you cannot bear the privation, I will retrieve your Muggle candy."

"You'll eat a few more?" Remus asked hopefully.

"No, thank you. But I hesitate to hold you to a promise that makes you suffer so cruelly. I understand that addictions are very difficult to resist." When Remus began to protest that he was not addicted, Severus gave him a stern frown and interrupted, "I bear no illusions that I taste better than chocolate, but you can't even kiss me without whinging for it."

"I was not whinging!" To his bemusement, Severus performed a very creditable imitation of Remus' whimper, and Remus turned pink even as he chuckled. "I wasn't making those noises over the sweets, Severus."

"No? Then what do you want?"

Despite the predictability of his response, Remus did not hesitate. "I want you."

"Do you indeed." The low, purring vibration in Severus' voice gave Remus pleasurable chills. "Perhaps you have not noticed, but I have been here, in a disgraceful state of undress, for quite some time." Raising an eyebrow, he touched a fingertip to Remus' mouth; Remus smiled and kissed it as it traced his lip and brushed his moustache. "This tickles."

"You don't mind terribly, do you? I could shave it off." But Severus looked appalled at the suggestion, brushing his upper lip along it before capturing Remus' mouth in a hungry, searching kiss. Arms around his back, Remus shifted his body closer and pushed at his shoulders, trying to lie him flat on the bed. Breaking the kiss to breathe, he nudged Severus' nose with his own.

"I want you," he whispered again.

"How?" A flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even discomfort, glittered in the dark eyes, though the tone held defensive sarcasm. "Baked in a pie, spread on toast, or -- oh, let me guess. Covered in chocolate." Remus laughed, quite pleased at the suggestion, and Severus looked up at him expectantly. "However, since you can't have that for a week..."

"You can have _me_ covered in chocolate."

Severus looked somewhat exasperated. "I don't want chocolate."

"Then just have me." And then Remus understood the question. "On my back...on my hands and knees...on my side..."

The bed lurched, and Severus was suddenly pressing him down into the pillows, making evident his body's enthusiastic response to the suggestion. "I'm not sure I can manage all of that in a single evening," he demurred, though from the hungry way his hands moved over Remus it seemed likely that he was willing to try. Smiling again, Remus tilted his head up to be kissed, feeling Severus fumbling about for his wand. "Do you prefer spells, potions...my tongue?"

"Your tongue!" It was not a suggestion Remus had expected to be offered so soon, if ever, and he trembled helplessly with desire for it. "Oh. Yes...though a spell would be fine, if you don't..."

With another whimper, Remus flipped himself over and raised his hips, for Severus was already sliding down, urging him to roll. He muttered a charm to make Remus clean and comfortable as he kissed his way below Remus' spine, licking a wet trail. Before he reached his destination, Remus could speak only in moans and shuddering cries, thrusting against the mattress; he could smell his own sweat as he fought to hold on to his control, thighs trembling and fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

When the sweet torment finally stopped, Severus asked, "Will you turn over?" and Remus flung himself onto his back, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under his hips so wantonly that he feared Severus might scoff at him. Yet as he crawled up, Severus only glanced at the pillow, murmured a spell to make it fluff beneath Remus and settled into his arms. "Tell me if I do anything that you dislike," he said, sounding more uneasy than Remus would have wished.

There was no pain, and indeed very little resistance; unsurprising, perhaps, that the potions master knew superlative lubrication spells, somehow more curious that he could be so cautious and steady after what Remus suspected had been terribly long abstinence, much longer than his own. Severus moved very carefully, apparently intent upon being able to stop should Remus make the request. Groaning, breathing in little gasps, Remus curled one hand in his hair and whispered, "Severus...oh."

With a soft grunt, Severus closed his eyes. "I'm not hurting -- ?"

"Please," Remus interrupted, touching his face. "Look at me." Though the room was unlit save for the fire in the grate on the far side of the sofa, there was enough illumination to see his expression at such close range, as Remus panted a little, rocking against him. "Take, a little."

Severus made a sharp warning noise, hissing, "Slow..." But his hips jerked more forcefully, and the slight change in angle made Remus shudder as he cried out. They were both sweating, not with exertion but from a combination of restraint, stress and friction, and they nearly slid apart until Remus gripped Severus' upper arms tightly to keep him where he wanted him, rising up to meet him with unexpected force.

Once Severus stopped trying so hard to be gentle, he turned into a different lover altogether -- fierce and passionate, unrestrained in the sounds he made and generous with his hands. It was over quickly, in a mad surge of inarticulate groans over the awkward slapping and juicy noises of their bodies rubbing together, but Remus could never bring himself to regret the haste of falling, drenched and sticky and satisfied, into a tangle of limbs. He pressed his face against Severus' neck and held on to him, trying to keep him inside, but once he recovered Severus withdrew to find his wand, spelling Remus with an unnecessary charm against pain.

"I wanted you to stay," whispered Remus.

"I am not in a particular hurry to leave."

"I meant inside me." In the heat and perspiration of Severus' throat, Remus was certain that his blush would be excused. "That was wonderful. This entire evening has been wonderful. Thank you."

A strange-sounding chuckle emerged from Severus' constrained windpipe. "Next time, I will stay until I have worn out my welcome. And there is no need to thank me." After a pause, silent except for their gradually hushed breathing, he admitted, "Perhaps I should thank you. I too have had a most enjoyable evening." Remus lifted his chin to kiss him, stroking his face, but before he could speak, Severus added, "What is most delightful about it is that you owe me six more."

Grinning back, Remus reminded him, "I thought you wanted some mornings and afternoons as well. And there is the weekend to consider."

"Tomorrow morning I must be at Hogwarts by seven, so you had best be prepared to be prodded awake at half past five. As for the weekend..." Glancing at pale skin seared by the hideous mark on the forearm, features prematurely marked by strain and suffering, and the distant, unfocused eyes of the relaxed man in his arms, a thought formed in Remus' mind at the same moment that Severus spoke it aloud. "Perhaps we could go somewhere. Away from here."

"Oh," sighed Remus. "I would like that very much." He hoped that he did not sound as besotted to Severus as he did to his own ears -- at least, until Severus closed his eyes, letting the lines of his face relax into the smoother, softer features of a younger time, looking more content than Remus had ever seen him. He was on the verge of telling him so, and of perhaps saying more, trying to put the current of happiness bubbling inside him into a phrase that might allow it to be shared, when Severus lifted his eyelids again, the beginnings of a frown creasing his forehead.

"We would have to tell the others." The small, innocuous words, not a spell, not even a threat, cast a cold shadow over the warmth of the bed. Of course they would have to tell the others if they left Hogwarts and headquarters; of course the others would understand the reason, and would perhaps even be sympathetic, but they would know.

"Do you think you should..." began Severus again. "Well, I suppose that he is still a child. But if he learns from gossip..."

"Talk to Harry," whispered Remus with a sinking feeling in his chest.

Severus stared at him. "You expect _me_ to talk to him? Have you lost your wits, Lupin?"

"No, no. I was just finishing your sentence." It was absolutely true that Harry must not hear of their relationship from idle talk, and perhaps believe that Remus had tried to hide it from him. At the same time, it was likely that Hermione, who had worked out that Remus was a werewolf, would also guess the reason for his newfound happiness...and discretion was hardly a Weasley family virtue. He would have to talk to Harry, then, but Harry -- who might have seen any entanglement on Remus' part to be a betrayal of Sirius, his beloved godfather -- would certainly not understand why he would have chosen to care for Severus Snape, whom Harry perceived as an enemy of himself and his father and a direct cause of Sirius' death.

Detaching himself from Remus' embrace, Severus lay on his back and looked at the dark wood of the ceiling beams overhead. "What precisely would you tell him?" In the uncertain pause, he continued, somewhat bleakly, "He believes that you and I are very nearly enemies, and has always seemed comfortable with that state of affairs. I doubt that he would forgive you even for professing friendship for me." It was entirely possible that Severus was right; there was no point in denying it. Shaking his head slightly, he sighed, "I don't suppose Molly Weasley thought about that when she sent me to bring you tea."

These words chilled Remus even more, as if Severus had already begun to unravel whatever this was that they had built in the weeks since that conversation -- the first accord they had ever reached, which had altered their understanding so very much. Swallowing his unhappiness, he reached for Severus' hand. "I don't suppose Potter would do anything so straightforward as demand that you stop seeing me," said Severus in the same resigned tone. "But none of us can afford to see him put himself in further jeopardy."

"No, we can't." Remus squeezed his hand. "But I can't live my life in fear that I will do something to anger him..."

"I doubt that there is much you could do that would truly anger him," Severus interrupted him. "Join the Death-Eaters, end your life by your own hand, or this."

"He would certainly forgive me sooner for this than if I joined the Death-Eaters..." Remus began to argue, but Severus cut him off again.

"I am a Death-Eater to him, Lupin. I bear the Mark. I am the head of Slytherin House and to his knowledge an associate of Lucius Malfoy. If you're lucky, Potter will only believe you to be weak and assume that I used poison mixed with your Wolfsbane to recruit you." The voice had a taunting edge that was familiar, though Lupin had not heard it for some time. It startled him how many years of defenses against that snide tone had crumbled in a few weeks, and how deeply it cut.

His fingers must have communicated his pain to Severus as they tightened on his, because the hand he was holding shifted, loosening his grip. Severus turned his palm and stroked his thumb across Remus' wrist in what Remus hoped was meant to be a soothing gesture, though perhaps it was himself whom Severus was trying to calm.

"I suppose you had better tell Potter that this means nothing. That your metabolism being what it is, and my...no, I don't suppose he would care to hear my reasons under any circumstances." Remus looked over at him but didn't dare to speak. "The point is that if you wish to avoid gossip, someone is certain to notice, when we spend the better part of a week together without working on Order business, and it likely will not appear incidental, to him, if he should hear of it."

"No, it wouldn't," Remus agreed, clearing his throat which had begun to close over. He blamed having irritated it earlier, trying to take Severus too deeply in his mouth; he wished that he did not taste the acid rising inside. Drained, and suddenly wanting nothing more than to have the conversation at an end, he started to ask, "Am I to understand that you think it best if..." when Severus interrupted him a final time:

"How I despise James Potter." Remus could only stare. Of anything that could have been said at the moment, this seemed most unexpected. "More than ten years the man is dead and still his son finds ways to snatch away any happiness I might..." As if aware that he was saying more than he had intended, Severus glanced over, slowly freezing his expression into something like indifference. "Well, Lupin," he began again, speaking the name with something like the distaste he had always used, rather than the recent suggestive inflection that made the surname sound far more intimate than Remus' given name. "Perhaps I should go."

"If you want to go, Severus, just tell me so." Remus hadn't let go of his hand, and the thumb was still tracing patterns on his wrist -- perhaps writing a spell, or a name. That thought might have disturbed Remus more had he not been so unhappy that it drove all other feeling from his mind -- even fear. "You seem quite determined to debate this with yourself, draw your own conclusions and act upon them, so I don't know that it will matter if I tell you that I wish you wouldn't."

"Even at the risk of losing the trust of Harry Potter? With so much at stake? I would rather you tell me to get out now."

The bitterness in Severus' words curled his lips downward in a familiar scowl. They appeared to wound him as much as they wounded Remus, who pulled him close, quite unable to bear it, pressing his fingers and then his mouth to the tight line of Severus' jaw. "Stop. Please. We both knew, before we started..." Unable to trust his voice to say more, he took a deep breath, heaving his shoulders, and felt Severus' arm slowly rise to encircle them.

"I've ruined your wonderful evening."

"You won't have. Just stay."

Remus had little enough pride left not to care that the order came out like a plea, for his lover remained where he was, holding him. In a heavy voice, Severus asked, "Is this worth tolerating all of that?" And, somewhat incredulously: "For me?"

"Actually it's for me." Remus conjured a ghost of a laugh. "I'm selfish. And greedy, as I believe you've said. And I want you with me. And I want us to be happy, no matter how foolish that may be."

"I told you not to make your happiness dependent upon mine."

"I can't help it. It's worth tolerating whatever I must if it will make you happy."

Severus' mouth twisted, making Remus fear that he had wanted too much. But then the other wizard picked up his wand, muttering "Accio," and the box of Muggle chocolates flew across the room to them. Severus spilled a few pastel-colored discs into his hand and studied them as if he expected to be able to read his fortune from them before putting them into his mouth.

"I am attempting to test your theory that chocolate improves any situation."

The thick sweet scent on his companion's breath made Remus' mouth water. He offered a pained smile. "Is it working?"

"Perhaps. I think I enjoy the flavor more while listening to you moan." Putting a pink candy between his upper and lower teeth, Severus leaned forward, and Remus took it with a grateful sigh, making sure to press their lips together before moving back to chew. "That is better, isn't it?"

"Oh, but you're making me cheat, Severus!"

The playful attempt Remus made to swat away the box caused half a dozen sweets to spill onto the bed. Picking them up, Severus put two pale green candies beneath his incisors like vampire fangs, pushing them into Remus' eager mouth with his tongue. "Perhaps I'm feeling generous."

"I appreciate your generosity," groaned Remus wholeheartedly. "You've been very good to me."

"I appreciate yours." Though a faint smile lingered, Severus' eyes had turned serious, studying Remus' face with a kind of dawning concern. "Don't speak in the past tense." He picked up the box of candy and pressed it into Remus' hand. "Have them all."

"But, Severus." Unease gnawed at Remus once more, making the taste of chocolate start to curdle on his tongue. "Please tell me you're not trying to renege on our agreement."

"No," Severus assured him in a firm voice, yet he was flushing slightly, averting his eyes. "I will honor my part of the bargain."

"Then why are you giving me the chocolate?"

"Because I want no games. No pacts of this sort between us...no limitations."

"You'll still make love with me every day for the rest of the week?" asked Remus, scarcely able to believe that Severus could be offering so much. "And next week?"

They both paused, looking at one another, until Remus could very nearly see the phases of the moon flash in Severus' eyes as he calculated the dates in the coming cycle. But his tentative nod gained confidence. He was reaching for Remus as he replied, "And next month."

Wrapping his arms around Severus' neck, Remus nuzzled in close. "Wonderful. And next year?"

"Assuming that the world does not end and there is a next year." It was just the sort of cynical statement that he might have expected of Severus, and Remus laughed, kissing his neck. "There, you see how sentimental I've become? And I thought you appreciated my lack of mawkishness."

"I appreciate everything you are, and I don't care how sentimental that may be." With his face hidden in the curve of Severus' throat to hide what he suspected was an adoring smile, Remus could not immediately sense the reaction to these words, though he could feel Severus lifting his hand. He had the thought that the other man might kiss his knuckles, and received a strange, painful shock when his fingers were placed on something scalding-hot and seething.

"You speak of what you do not know, nor want to know," Severus uttered, taking Remus' hand from the Mark on his arm. "I have spent enough of my life trying to atone..."

"Shh." Lifting his head, Remus raised the tender fingers to Severus' face. "You've nothing to atone for here, and I would want you anyway."

"It would seem that you have me."

"Then please stay tonight." Though he couldn't help blushing a little as he kissed him, Remus kept his voice light, and Severus took it as a cue to repond in kind.

"Only if you will loan me a toothbrush. Our teeth will rot from all this chocolate. Fortunately I know a potion..."

"You know a _potion_! Why, Professor Snape, I never would have guessed."

The mockery earned him a lowered eyebrow, but the tension had vanished entirely, and Severus was smirking when he said, "Fifty points from Gryffindor for questioning my competence."

"But that's not fair. And you have chocolate in the corner of your mouth."

Leaning forward, he licked Severus' lips, and chin, and his nose for good measure, though Severus kept interrupting to kiss him and did not seem particularly interested in stopping even after his face was clean. "Greedy," he warned softly, though whether he was making the accusation against Remus or himself was hard to say.

"I'm making up for my earlier privation," Remus smiled, kissing him once more.

"Then we must endeavor to make certain that you are never so deprived again, Remus." Severus cocked his head. "'Lupin' rolls more sweetly off the tongue. Like chocolate." He placed a piece of candy in Remus' mouth and smirked at the moan that followed. "To be enjoyed slowly. I believe I shall."


	8. Who's Afraid

"If this is what you are always like the day before the full moon, Lupin, no wonder you become so exhausted afterward."

The sated groan with which Snape concluded his sentence made his lover laugh, even though Lupin could not yet speak, with his breath still coming in deep urgent gasps. They had collapsed together across the foot of Lupin's bed, and while repeated scourgifying charms had prevented the blankets and pillows from becoming repulsively unclean, the bedsheets looked threadbare where Snape's knees had dug into them and the headboard was separating from a bedpost where he had gripped it too tightly.

"That was only the third time," panted Lupin.

"The third time in six hours," Snape reminded him, also a bit breathless. "Some of us who do not share your metabolism find it difficult to maintain this level of activity."

Lupin only grinned at him. While Snape had been anxious at first about being able to keep up with a man with the stamina of a werewolf, he had since realized that Lupin did not expect him to match his pace -- Sirius Black had not been able to even when they were much younger, Lupin had told him. And when his own body refused to cooperate, Snape found surprising pleasure in the enthusiasm with which Lupin responded to his touch, as well as his expressions of gratitude and contentment.

Now Lupin shifted around, kissed him softly with swollen lips and accused, "Complain all you wish, but I think you like knowing that I can't resist you."

"And I think you like knowing that if you beg me sufficiently, I will use whatever dark magic in my power is necessary to satisfy you." At the words, Lupin's laugh rang out once more while he slumped onto the worn bedsheets, keeping his head elevated on an arm and stroking his fingers along Snape's side until Snape shivered. "Stop that. Whatever do you do when you have no one available who's so eager to keep you content?"

"Oh, it isn't usually quite so intense. I have to feel..." Hesitating, Lupin lowered his eyes, though the smile remained. "It isn't indiscriminate. It's a combination of the physical effects of lycanthropy and being with someone who makes me want to express them this way." The lids flickered. "I'm not making you feel obligated, or ill-used, am I?"

"This is a terrible fate," Snape told him. "Lying about in the middle of the afternoon, doing nothing, during a perfectly fine weekend to be locked away in a library or brewing noxious potions instead. Perhaps I shall write a book on the art of doing nothing -- though that was really Lockhart's field of expertise, but who would he have plagiarized it from?"

Lupin allowed a scandalized chuckle to escape. "Severus! We aren't doing nothing. We spent at least twenty minutes studying the maps."

"Until you put your foot on me in a most inappropriate place and ruined my concentration. I should deduct ten points from Gryffindor for that."

"Will you explain your reasoning to Minerva? She should know about Gryffindor's disciplinary problems and I'm sure she'd be shocked to hear about my foot."

"Perhaps you are right. I should not cast blame upon your former House. I should take away your chocolate until after the full moon." Suddenly Snape found himself flattened against the mattress by a man who seemed to have rediscovered his energy; even more startling, he was being prodded in the thigh again. "Honestly, Lupin, if you find it enticing to be scolded like a schoolboy..."

"I find it enticing to listen to you talk. I quite enjoy the way sex seems to loosen your tongue." The frank admission was accompanied by a hungry stare that made Snape twitch, though he would have sworn moments earlier that his body was too exhausted to respond in any way. Throughout the day, he had tried consciously to remind himself of the form Lupin would take several hours hence, but the revulsion that accompanied his instinctual dread of the werewolf had been fading steadily into guilt ever since he had successfully banished Lupin from Hogwarts. Now there was a strange element to it -- a frisson not unlike desire. Lupin noticed it, too: his demands were becoming more direct, his grins bolder. "Don't look so disapproving," he scolded.

"It's my nature to be disapproving," Snape told him, earning another chortle and a squeeze. "And the blame falls entirely upon you."

"No, no. You've brought me chocolate, you've brought me books, and you've spent all afternoon in my bed." Several retorts occurred to Snape, who scowled to disguise the flush that was threatening to creep over his features. Yet Lupin's reminders were entirely fair, and for a moment Snape let himself believe that it really could be so easy -- as if, rather than a werewolf and a wizard who bore the mark of a killer deep within his skin, they were merely two men enjoying one another on a lazy Sunday.

A finger traced Snape's lower lip, and he couldn't tell whether he heard pride or tenderness in Lupin's voice when he spoke again. "Why, Severus, you're smiling. Am I seeing a hint of possibility that you might be...happy?"

It was an absurd revelation. A day earlier, Snape had failed to give that miserable Creevey boy detention for taking ingredients from the Potions classroom to use in developing photographs. He had deducted points, of course, and assigned Creevey an essay for the weekend on the hazards of chemicals in an undisciplined environment. But he had not wanted to stay late on a Friday, rushing to Grimmauld Place as soon as his classes were over, not wishing to wait even another hour to be with Remus Lupin. Now he felt his face grow hot, and might have twisted away entirely had Lupin not stopped him from turning with a kiss.

"You've ruined me," Snape growled. "How will I ever terrify my students properly again?"

Lupin smiled gently. "From what I understand, you are still doing a wonderful job of it."

"But it's all pretense. I haven't given detentions to many very deserving pupils."

"So that you could see me?" There was no gloating that Snape could detect in Lupin's expression, only delight, though his nostrils flared with increasing mirth as he stroked his arm in what began as a soothing gesture before it grew increasingly suggestive. "Why don't you choose a day of the week. What about Thursdays. Give all your detentions on Thursdays. Then -- when you're not here, Professor -- I'll come sleep in your bed and be a very naughty Gryffindor, and on Fridays, you can give _me_ detention."

With a hiss of outrage, Snape flipped over and wrestled Lupin onto his back, pretending not to have heard his little moan. "How dare you," he breathed. "Do you honestly expect me to sit still in a room of little prats knowing that you are in my bed being a naughty Gryffindor?" At Lupin's breathless whimper, he added, "Seeing your lack of contrition, I have no choice but to give you detention right now..."

"Oh yes, Severus," Lupin groaned shamelessly, and Snape understood two things: it was true that his days of terrorizing students might be over, and it was also true that he was, for the first time in long memory, happy. He knew that Lupin could see it. He suspected that Moody could see it, and Molly Weasley, and possibly the Headmaster and McGonagall and Shacklebolt and Tonks, if they were paying attention -- as they must have been, for he'd been asked to do remarkably little for the Order, no one had questioned his comings and goings at Hogwarts, and everyone at Grimmauld Place had been annoyingly conversational of late.

But it did not occur to him that two other things were inevitable until the morning after the full moon. A day earlier, once he had made certain that Lupin had taken his Wolfsbane Potion -- unnecessarily, since Lupin had never missed a dose except under extreme duress -- he had said a friendly yet awkward farewell, then left Grimmauld Place to return to Hogwarts. Passing the Weasley twins in the kitchen on his way out, he had frowned at their smirks, knowing that their perpetual meddling would find him out if it had not done so already...and they would tell their brother Ron, who would tell his best friend, Harry Potter.

This was a crisis he and Lupin had both accepted as inevitable, but the sight of the overgrown mischief-makers reminded Snape that it was a topic that would have to be addressed very soon. On the other hand, he could not have predicted leaving his office in the Slytherin dungeon in an agreeable mood and nearly stumbling in his distraction over Gregory Goyle's father -- Snape's former colleague among the Dark Lord's followers, and one of Lucius Malfoy's closest associates.

"Snape." The voice was the flat acknowledgment with which they always greeted one another in public, but Goyle was wearing a private grin, making Snape's stomach clench unpleasantly. Goyle was a lackey and a fool, but he answered to Malfoy, and Lucius had always been able to see through Severus -- even when Snape had successfully hidden his plans to leave the Death Eaters from the older man, Malfoy had known that he was struggling with some inner conflict, and preyed upon his emotions and loyalties with every weapon he possessed.

If Malfoy guessed at any connection between Snape and Lupin, even friendship, it would be deadly for himself and Lupin both. Or perhaps -- in some obscure way -- might Malfoy be responsible for the connection, as a means of weakening Snape or Lupin or both? The sleeping terror, the werewolf, was at that moment probably curled upon the bed where Snape and Lupin had made love only the day before. During the full moon, Lupin was utterly vulnerable: if he took the potion then he had no strength, no weapons to defend himself, and if he did not take the potion then he had to be caged like an animal to protect the innocent, and would very likely be destroyed if he killed even a Death Eater in self-defense...

"I regret to be a stickler for formality, but guests must check in before visiting the dormitories, and you may be harassed by the prefects if you have not done so," Snape said to Goyle, who only nodded and smiled again.

"A foolish restriction. I hear from my son that there are many of those at Hogwarts." Searching the other wizard's face, Snape tried without success to guess what those words might have meant. "I'd been hoping for a chance to speak with you, though. I have a message from Malfoy -- "

At that moment Snape was saved by a bell, which might have been ringing for any reason from the beginning of a game to the need to summon a house-elf but which he used as an excuse to whirl away with an expression of surprise. "I am most dreadfully sorry, but I am needed in the classroom immediately," he said to Goyle. "The ingredients for combustible potions have already been set out -- I cannot allow the students to begin to experiment with them unsupervised -- I do hope that I will see you later."

He was already plotting to get a message to Dumbledore requiring that he meet with the headmaster the moment his classes had finished, but at that precise moment, he felt a tingling on his arm that could only mean one thing. "Soon, Snape," Goyle nodded. "I am only here to deliver a package to my son that could not be trusted to an owl in these uncertain times...but I will see you very soon."

True to his word, Goyle was gone before dinner; Snape had not expected him to linger in the halls of Dumbledore's domain. Yet long after the moon had set, past the time when he might have contacted Lupin who was always weak and pained after the middle of the month, Snape remained locked in his office, rejecting the compulsion to communicate which preyed upon him like a curse. Again he wondered whether Lupin might have an unnatural hold upon him, either through some treachery on his part or based on a binding spell created by one of Snape's enemies. How else could he have grown so weak so quickly, like an infatuated youth?

For three days he kept to himself, grading essays in meticulous detail, finding a perverse comfort in the discovery that he could still operate entirely independently; he suffered only from a maddening inability to fall asleep without a sleeping draught. But on the fourth night, despite having nineteen detentions he had meant to oversee, he realized that it would be best if he reported directly to Moody on the ingredients of a potion the former Auror had asked him to analyze. It wasn't as if he could avoid Grimmauld Place indefinitely, though he arrived as late as he dared, long after he expected that most of the wizards would have departed for their homes or defensive positions, when all but insomniacs like Moody would be asleep.

In the course of conversation, Snape attempted to ask Moody whether he had ever thought it was possible that Lupin -- a werewolf, and the longtime lover of a man imprisoned in Azkaban -- might possibly have come under the influence of their enemies without any of them suspecting it. Unfortunately Moody was stubborn and inquisitive, claiming that nothing was wrong with Lupin except for the fact that he was moping again, which Moody blamed on Snape. When Moody was reminded that he, himself, like the rest of them, had been certain that Black had been guilty while Pettigrew had been innocent, thus proving that they had all made grievous errors in judgment before about which of them might be susceptible, the onetime Auror only scoffed and made the outrageous suggestion that Snape was behaving cowardly.

Tired -- and unhappy, though he insisted to himself that it was because of Moody's outrageous comments -- Snape failed to notice until he had entered his room upstairs that someone was already inside. He realized his mistake as soon as he had shut the door, though he concluded just as quickly that nobody planning a stealth attack would have built a fire nor left chocolate upon a table.

Lupin was lying across his bed, dressed fully in his robes and clutching his wand, looking not like a naughty Gryffindor but like an ill, unhappy wizard, even in sleep. Sitting on a corner of the mattress, Snape watched him for awhile. Upon discovering his lover there, he had thought of two plans of action: the first was to use what skills he possessed as a legilimens to probe Lupin's mind and learn the extent of his susceptibility, while the second was merely to maintain a polite distance and tell Lupin that upon reflection, what they were doing was entirely too dangerous to the safety of everyone. Either plan should have been a simple matter for a former Death Eater now committed to the safety of the Order of the Phoenix, yet he found that he could do neither.

After a while Lupin stirred, blinking as he sat up. "Severus?"

Even a simple nod of acknowledgment was more difficult than it should have been. "You're in my bed," said Snape needlessly.

Lupin looked uncertain, but he forced the ghost of a smile to his lips. "I tried Minerva's, but it was too soft," he said, clearing his throat. "Then I tried Alastor's, but it was too hard. So I tried yours, and it was just right."

"But that's only a fairy tale. A Muggle fairy tale, as I recall." In spite of himself Snape found that he was responding to the smile, offering his own hand when Lupin reached out. "And doesn't the wolf huff and puff and blow the house down?"

"No, no, that's the Three Little Pigs. This is Goldilocks and the Three Bears."

"Oh, yes. Was Goldilocks the girl who kept her hair hidden under a cape so her stepmother couldn't cut off her long braids?"

"I'm afraid you're mixing up Rapunzel and Little Red Riding Hood."

"That's right, with the ravenous creature who hid meekly in the bed. Why, Lupin, what big teeth you have."

"All the better to eat you with, my dear..." Then Lupin's face crumpled, and his voice wavered as he spoke again. "I'd started to wonder if you weren't coming back. If you'd belatedly remembered that I was the Big Bad Wolf."

Though he shook his head, Snape's fingers closed tightly on Lupin's, giving away more than he intended. "I'm afraid that I had never forgotten."

"Is that what's wrong?" Lupin's eyes searched his face. "Did something happen? Are you all right?"

"How," Snape asked, slowly, heavily, "can we do this? Why should you trust me when you know what I was? And how can I trust you knowing what you are?"

Lupin had turned pale and was hunched over, as if Snape had given him a blow to the stomach, but his voice remained strong. "What have I done, Severus, to make you mistrust me?"

"Perhaps it's merely that you rationalize the risks. Pettigrew played you and Black, making you doubt one another, did he not?" When Lupin flinched, shock giving way to defiance, Snape continued, "You know that I still talk to my former associates. I socialize with them on occasion, sometimes specifically when the Headmaster asks it of me, but at other times only because I have been invited. If someone within the Order was brutally murdered the way James and Lily Potter were, I would be the obvious suspect."

Frowning, Remus nodded. "That is possible. But it doesn't explain your own doubts."

"The Dark Lord told Harry Potter that with Flamel's stone, he could bring back the dead. We have reason to believe that he may have been telling the truth."

"That is possible as well, but I'm not certain that I understand the connection."

"Didn't you ever think about it, when Black fell? After twelve years of believing that he was a murderer, turning your back on him and leaving him to rot because you couldn't trust him...what would you do now to have him back, if it were offered?"

Lupin's skin was white but his scars were dark, as if all his blood had drained into his wounds. "Are you asking me whether I'd give you, or Harry, or anyone else, up to our enemies to have Sirius back? Severus, I would hope that you'd know me better than..."

"As well as you knew Pettigrew and Black? Don't you ever ask yourself, what if you are wrong again?"

The words made Lupin flinch again, lifting his hand to signal Snape to stop, yet his words remained defiant. "I would never have considered such a price. Even months ago, when I -- when I blamed you for not continuing to teach Harry occlumency." While he spoke, Lupin had continued to hold his hand in the air, as if preparing to ward off a blow; now he turned the palm and gestured downward, resigned. "I choose to trust you, maybe precisely because I did not trust Sirius when I should have -- I think we've both learned that sometimes one must obey instinct even in the face of what seems like logic. I know you can't discuss any contact you may have had with the Death-Eaters, but if someone has told you something about me, I assure you that I have no deeper, darker secrets than the ones you already know."

They were both silent for a long time, with Snape unable to make the same assertion, yet feeling as if the question had been silently put to him. "Will you tell me at least if you believe me?" Lupin asked finally.

"I do believe you." It was clear from Lupin's face that he was skeptical, so Snape sought an explanation. "You once told me that when Black came out of Azkaban, he was incapable of recalling happy memories without pain -- a long conditioning from contact with the Dementors." Lupin nodded. "Then you must understand...for somewhat similar reasons, I do not trust happiness. Its consequences in my life have been disastrous."

"I see." Lupin rubbed at a scar on his arm, making Snape feel an answering echo in the Dark Mark in his own skin. "I suppose I should get used to it."

"I am sorry. I did warn you, as best I was able..."

"I know you did." Lupin's fingernails scratched at the old gash like a claw, tracing the red mark, making his face contort -- a technique Snape knew all too well, turning psychic pain into something physical, much easier to control. He snatched the fingers away from the scar, bending Lupin's wrist with the force of the gesture.

"Stop this. It's not necessary. There is a great deal that I have not told you and cannot tell you. I must apologize..."

"You don't have to apologize, Severus." The resignation in the voice was harder to bear than a cry of pain. Lids closed, Lupin asked him, "Do you want me to leave?"

Such a blunt question should have made it easier to say what was necessary: a single syllable, and they would both be free from the risks they had brought to one another and to the Order. Still, Snape discovered that he could not lie to Lupin. "You fool." The harsh words, at least, brought Lupin from passivity to alertness, though his eyes were too bright now, the skin around them swollen and damp. "I had thought that if it became too dangerous, I would simply let you go. Obviously I am bungling that attempt."

"You didn't answer my question. Do you want me to go?"

Snape felt the denial fill his throat, threatening to force itself to his lips; he shook his head to force it back, shuddering, until Lupin's free hand caught his shoulder and steadied him.

"This," he managed to whisper instead. "Whatever this is. Between us. Can you honestly say that it could be worth your life?"

"In such times as these?" Lupin's voice was low but determined. "I think that any small measure of love is worth dying for."

"And is that what this is?"

The hand he had been holding in an awkward, painful vise since he pulled it away from Lupin's arm twisted under his fingers, catching and gripping his own wrist. "Not a small measure. It's more than that, Severus, at least to me. And deny it if you will, but I think you feel the same way, or you would never have asked these things of me -- you would have told me to go."

Snape could feel his own chest heaving; for a minute he was afraid that he was going to be sick, or that anything he said would shatter into a cry, despite many years of discipline and self-control that had made him the Order's most skilled Occlumens. His fingers remained wrapped firmly around Lupin's hand. Then, after a hush that stretched from seconds into minutes, until the fire had visibly dimmed and the room darkened, he knew that he did not need to speak -- his silence had answered Lupin's words -- he still had not told him to leave.

"I gave out nineteen detentions on Tuesday," he muttered instead.

Lupin's free hand came up and stroked his face, cooler than his breath, which gusted between them in a puff of laughter, or perhaps a sob. "Nineteen!" Their foreheads came together, and Snape found his arm sliding up the other man's, pulling him close. "Oh, Severus, that must be a high mark even for you."

"The students were particularly ill-behaved. Though none was so naughty a Gryffindor as to sleep in my bed." Lupin was shaking under his hands, partly with uneven bursts of laughter and partly because he was shivering. "You really must stop doing things by half-measures -- you should be under the blankets."

"I was so tired, Professor..." Lupin moved readily in response to Snape's urging, letting himself be rolled to the side and stuffed under the covers before turning back into Snape's arms, his face against Snape's neck, and if those were tears on his cheeks, then Snape was certain that they were a result of his pain from the full moon. He stroked Lupin's hair, and a quiet sniffle turned into a sort of snicker. "If you want to give me weeks and weeks of detention, I promise never to complain."

It had to be dangerous, Snape thought, to feel such acute need as that which rose in him, despite how obviously weak Lupin was and his own exhaustion. Yet he could think of no means to resist it when their mouths found one another, and the salty, bitter taste on Lupin's lips made his hands begin to wander, urgent to distract from the pain. He had never been so unrestrained with Malfoy, nor with any of the rare partners he had sought in the intervening years, all of whom had been substitutes. Despite the danger, he felt safe for the first time in his adult life, free of the terrible bond to his first lover.

Many hours later, when the fire had burned out and Lupin had slept deeply, curled against him like an animal -- Snape had drifted in and out of wakefulness, quite calm and clear-headed as he pondered various matters that had to be dealt with -- they began to talk again. It seemed likely at this point that everyone within the Order knew that Snape and Lupin were on intimate terms: Moody certainly did, Molly Weasley certainly did, and the rest were not fools but simply granting them the discretion that Snape had made it obvious he craved. Not everyone connected with Grimmauld Place, however, could be trusted to do the same, and they turned their attention to the ongoing problem of the infuriating Harry Potter.

"If Harry were to learn of it from one of his peers, he would never trust me again," Lupin agreed in a flat voice. "But, Severus, he may never trust me again if I tell him directly."

"There is an additional cause for concern, should the rumor spread among the students," ventured Snape. "In addition to whatever damage might be inflicted upon my reputation with an already unruly, undisciplined body of pupils -- " Lupin choked back a snicker at this. " -- any gossip spreading through Hogwarts is certain to come to the attention of Draco Malfoy and through him to his father, which would be more damaging still. I do not believe that any of the other students have sufficient access to tell credible stories about me, if Potter and Weasley can be prevented from talking."

"I understand. Perhaps I might come up with you on the weekend. In the meantime I shall try to work out what to say..."

Very unwillingly, Severus said, "I have been thinking. Perhaps it would be best if I spoke to him." From the startled noise that greeted this pronouncement, he knew that Lupin's first instinct was to ask him whether he had gone mad. "His greatest anger is likely to come at the very beginning. I hardly think he could dislike me any more than he already does. I also expect that he would not want to hear any explanation you might offer, and in fact that he would greatly prefer not to hear your reasons, but I think it is slightly possible, perhaps, that he might listen to mine."

Lupin no longer sounded entirely scornful of the idea, but he was very still, demonstrating no enthusiasm for it either. "What would you tell him?" he asked finally, and then, at Snape's silence, "I'm going to make a suggestion that you may not like very much. You said once that you wondered whether Molly had ever wondered what Harry would say, when she first sent you to bring me tea. I think you should ask her."

"Ask Mrs. Weasley?" Certainly Lupin could hear Snape's distaste in his tone.

"Aside from me, perhaps, she knows him better than anyone in the Order, perhaps than any other adult. He obviously has affection for her, even apart from the fact that she is his friend's mother. And you know she has more experience in dealing with children than we do."

"That is true." Though the room was still quite dark, Snape could hear the house beginning to stir. Downstairs, someone was dragging a chair from one room to another, and some of the paintings were talking in quiet voices in the hallway. When Molly Weasley was in residence at Grimmauld Place, she was frequently one of the first ones up and about; she seemed to have made it her personal responsibility to be certain that those returning from raids had something to eat before they went to rest, and to be certain that those about to leave for work were aware of the schedules and locations of the others. If he wanted a moment alone with her, this was perhaps the opportune moment to seek it.

It took two spells to straighten his rumpled robes, and there was nothing he could do about the circles under his eyes. But he let Lupin kiss him goodbye with a smile. "Might I hope to see you tonight, since it's Friday?"

"So long as no emergency arises, you will certainly see me tonight, and I will tell you then precisely how terrible the damage may be."

"Ever the optimist, Severus." Lupin shook his head, though he was still grinning. "It won't be so bad as you think. Molly, at the very least, does not bite."

Though he nearly knocked Tonks down the stairs in his haste, Snape reached the kitchen and discovered to his great relief that Molly was up and about while Moody was not. She gave him a warm smile as she greeted him, making him wonder what he had ever done to earn it.

"Mrs. Weasley," he said awkwardly. "I would appreciate a few minutes of your time."

"Of course." Grabbing two cups of tea, she hustled him into the dining room, which remained empty except when everyone sat down to a meal together, which almost never happened at breakfast time. "Come and sit down. Now, what is it? I know that Remus was very upset not to hear from you, not that he would have said anything of course -- is anything wrong?"

Although mildly appalled at her words, they only confirmed the urgency of the discussion for if Molly had noticed that Lupin was unhappy in his absence, she was surely not alone in the observation. Snape crossed his hands in his lap and sat stiffly beside her. "You and your family are quite close with Harry Potter," he said, waiting for her nod before he continued. "There are very few adults to whom he has displayed any proper resp-- that is, there are not many in the Order who have his complete trust. Perhaps not even the headmaster at this time." Again she nodded. "I do think, however, that he will listen to Lupin."

Beaming at him, she started to enthuse, "That is because Remus Lupin is..." but he cut her off.

"If someone should choose to be indiscreet with whatever innuendo he possesses about Lupin and myself, and should that innuendo reach Potter's attention..."

Molly's eyes widened, and her mouth curved in an "oh" of understanding. "Severus, I wouldn't have said anything, because I know you think it's not my business, but I have already told Fred and George that if any gossip travels from their lips to Ron's ear, I will treat it as a betrayal of Order business and recommend that they be barred from entering this house for anything but a family emergency. And I hardly think anyone here is indiscreet enough for idle speculation..." At Snape's glower, she fell silent. "However, I must agree with you. Harry must be told, and it would certainly be better if he didn't learn about it from some outside party."

"Lupin and I have agreed that it would be best if one of us told him. I had thought, perhaps, since he is certain to become angry about it, that it might be better if it were myself."

"So that he doesn't turn all that anger onto the one adult he trusts."

"Precisely. Only I must present the information in a manner that will not allow him to believe that Lupin is being unduly influenced, by me, perhaps, or merely being cowardly by not telling him himself. I had thought that -- since you know him -- you might have some suggestion as to how to approach the matter."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt ridiculous, but after a moment of thoughtful consideration, she met his eyes. "Why is he alive, Severus?"

Though he was tempted to say that Potter was apparently alive to make his own life a misery, Snape merely curled his lip and recited the information that Dumbledore had made certain to explain over and over: "His mother gave her life to save him. Because she made the sacrifice in love, he was protected."

"Yes! Exactly!" Molly would have made a fine schoolteacher; she sounded very much like Sprout giving excessive praise. "It's what Albus said to all of us when we talked about blocking spells and whatever else Moody was going on about at the last meeting. The Dark Lord can't withstand love. There is no greater protection that any of us could have. Harry's mother may have given us the key to defeating our enemies. You don't have to explain any of this to Harry, he already knows; you need only remind him of it."

"But that will not make him accept what he may perceive as Lupin having betrayed his godfather and himself. I'm not even certain that he would accept friendship between us, let alone what his adolescent mind may perceive as a sordid and unnatural bond..."

"Then you will have to impress upon him that there is nothing sordid about it. All you really have to do, Severus, is to tell him how much you love Remus."

Snape's knuckles went white, his lips compressed into a thin line and it took a great deal of control not to stride out of the room. "I hardly think..." he began, but Molly cut him off in the tone she used with her older sons when they offered an opinion with which she disagreed.

"Listen to me. You said yourself that there is more at stake here than your feelings or Harry's -- Remus is one of very few adults he respects. Does he listen to you, or me? Remus stopped him from jumping through the veil after Sirius, and I'm not sure anyone else could have done that." Her eyes were blazing, perhaps with unshed tears. "You understand that he's a child. Any insult or injury he may have paid you comes from a child's selfishness and pettiness and...don't you think I've seen this enough from my own sons?"

Abruptly she stopped, blinked and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping her eyes and sniffling Percy's name, which Snape found so embarrassing to watch that he awkwardly patted her hand, sincerely hoping that it might stop her tears. Molly glanced at his hand on hers, gave him a rather astonished stare, and, indeed, seemed to forget her lamentation. "I know there are things you've done which were for his own good that he resented anyway. Perhaps you could explain that you were trying to make him stronger...I don't know, or I'd have been a better parent myself. There may be nothing you can say that will convince him of your lack of ill will as far as he's concerned. But you must convince him when it comes to Remus -- no matter how much you believe that it's not Harry's business to judge you -- you must at the very least convince him that your feelings are sincere, and deep, and lasting."

Mortified nearly beyond speech, Snape withdrew his hand from hers and said, "I will do my best to be certain that he does not rebel any more than he has, and to prevent him from turning his back on Lupin." He glanced at her somewhat hopefully. "Perhaps if you were to speak to him..."

"No, dear, if I were to speak to him that _would_ look cowardly on Remus' part and on yours. You don't have to go out of your way to be sweet and cheerful -- he might be more comfortable if you were your familiar scowling self." Laughing softly, she retrieved his hand and squeezed it. "You must remember being his age; it's all terribly confusing, and all the love business is the worst. I was in love with three boys, and...I must remember to have a talk with Ginny." Once again her eyes grew misty, and Snape, who had heard something of the youngest Weasley's dating exploits, bit back a smirk. "My point is, telling Harry in a formal voice that you care for Remus is only going to make him think you're talking down to him. You must be unequivocal. Tell him that you would die for Remus."

"You don't believe he would object to me in the same way that children often resent a stepmother or stepfather?" Again, the moment the words were out of his mouth, Snape was horrified at the intimacy they suggested, but Molly didn't appear to blink.

"Of course he might. But there are plenty of children who harbor grudges against their parents and listen to them anyway. No matter what he might say to you, he'll see what measure of value you put on Remus if you're willing to come to him and expose yourself to his scorn and anger. If he is cruel, all you can do is let him see that you are willing to accept such spitefulness, because Remus is worth it. You understand, don't you, dear?"

Snape did not think he could sit and listen for another moment. Rising, he nodded at her as well as he could manage without meeting her eyes. "Thank you. You have given me a great deal to think about."

Molly squeezed his hand once more before releasing it. "I know you can do this, Severus. You're a changed man." His displeasure must have shown, because she added, "Don't make that face. Albus didn't make all that up about love, you know. It really did save Harry's life. Do you have a better explanation of how he survived a year at Hogwarts with Quirrell?" Snape did not. It was a question he had asked himself more than once, when he kept himself up nights wondering how Voldemort might punish him for those months of thwarting his will, keeping both Potter and the Stone safe. "But -- oh! Don't you have to teach in an hour!" Then Molly was hustling him back into the kitchen, where Tonks and Moody were sharing apple bread and jam.

As Snape finished his breakfast in silence, turning his thoughts to the difficulty of describing love in terms an immature teenager would understand, the kitchen door opened. "I'm not too late for breakfast, am I?" asked Lupin.

Certainly not, they all agreed, and Snape got up to offer him his seat, aware of the eyes of all the others upon them. "I must be going. I have a class to teach." The nod that Lupin offered was cautious, constrained in the presence of the others. It would not do -- not if they were going to convince Harry Potter that they loved one another enough to make petty obstacles like public embarrassment disappear.

"Until this evening, Remus." As his words sunk in while he strode past, Snape swept his hand over his lover's shoulder and across his neck. The back of Lupin's head brushed along the inside of his arm, pressing down on the Dark Mark, which had been burning faintly ever since he had seen Goyle the day before. Quite suddenly the sensation was gone.

Snape could hear Tonks' surprised indrawn breath, and he was sure that Moody's eye followed him all the way through the kitchen door, but any discomfort he might once have felt from their curiosity was nothing next to the warmth spreading through him from the spot marked by his deepest shame. _It is agony for Voldemort to touch a person marked by love_, Dumbledore had said. Reaching deep into his pocket beside his wand, he pulled out an amulet -- a memory locket, holding his happiest recollection from another world, from what seemed a lifetime ago. He had not dared to open it for many years but he did so now, keeping his eyes closed, and banished with a quiet spell a recollection of a bright afternoon in New Orleans that should have been lost to the past long before.

Those years with Lucius Malfoy -- the obsession and fear that had brought him to Voldemort -- that had not been love. Perhaps he had understood as little as Potter. The boy might never forgive his potions teacher for a long list of grievances, most entirely unjust, but he did understand love; Snape remembered the vehemence with which he had defended both Black and Lupin. He was certain that Potter could be brought to believe in Snape's sincerity, this one time.

Snape cleared his thoughts of everything but the image of Lupin's smile and the fading ache in his own arm as he walked from the kitchen. He did not want any intruding details -- no sensuous recollections nor complicated emotions coming to the surface, not even small things like the brush of Lupin's hair beneath his fingertips as they slid across his neck. He focused on the precise instant when the Dark Mark lost its power over him, when he had known no doubt whatsoever about the depth of his feelings. By the time the locket closed, sealing in his certainty, he could no longer understand what he had ever thought could be difficult or frightening about something that was so simply, unquestionably true.


	9. Assent

Harry Potter resembled nothing so much as a skinny, scrawny owl as he glared toward the front of the empty Potions classroom. Every student present had noticed the teacher's discomfort while waiting for the day's lesson to end; Snape was so certain of it that he had tried to compensate by pacing among the cauldrons, snarling at anyone who was not following his directions to the letter. Even Draco Malfoy, who had a fair aptitude for potion-making, had been unable to impress the head of Slytherin House today.

Snape resented Potter's wide-eyed, indignant, "But I've done nothing wrong...sir," which had followed his own request that the boy remain for a few minutes after the lesson. Heat from the cauldrons had left the classroom too warm, and Snape found that he was sweating as he paced behind his desk, then decided that such a vantage might appear too condescending for the conversation he wished to have and strode in front of it again. It was not an auspicious beginning.

"Mr. Potter. I wish to speak with you about a matter of concern to us both." At least he had the boy's attention; Potter stood straighter, though he still glowered, shifting his books from one arm to the other. "Why don't you sit down." Gesturing at the nearest desk, Snape sat behind its neighbor, which had the dual advantage of putting them at the level of equals for the purposes of the discussion and allowing them both to gaze at the front of the classroom, avoiding one another's eyes.

Though the boy continued to stare suspiciously for the moment, he did put down his books and sit. Snape began, "It's about Prof--" But Lupin was no longer Potter's teacher, and Snape thought it would be best not to remind Potter of how that had come about. "Remus" seemed too casual, whereas the use of "Mister" might go too far toward formality. With a small shake of his head, Snape said, "It's about Lupin."

Potter, who had been fidgeting with a quill, suddenly went rigid. His voice quavered as he asked, "What about him?"

"I'm certain you've noticed that he was not well after..." How to phrase it? "...after what happened to Sirius Black." With a stiff nod, Potter dropped his eyes to a spot on the desk behind which Snape was sitting.

Was Potter perhaps embarrassed at the reference to a relationship between the two men? With his head bent so, he looked very like his father. For all of James Potter's judgmental tendencies, he had never seemed disturbed that his two closest friends shared a bed and had probably done so in the dormitory where they all slept; did his Muggle-raised son harbor prejudices the elder Potter had not? Or had the boy failed to guess at the bond between Lupin and Black?

"I assume you know that they were very close," ventured Snape. "If he's worse -- " Potter flinched. "He is, isn't he? He's ill. There's no reason to try to make it easier for me. You can just say it."

The interruption did not follow logically from what Snape had been saying, forcing him to make an effort to keep irritability from his voice as he continued. "You know that Lupin suffers from lycanthropy, and if you paid attention while writing your essay on the condition, you know its effects upon the metabolism of a person so afflicted." With a sigh, Potter started tugging at his quill again, giving Snape a bitter glance. "But that is not the only reason he was doing poorly. Do you know why Lupin went into such a decline after Black fell?"

Flushing a bit, Potter nodded. "They -- Remus and Sirius -- were -- " Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he clasped his hands together over his heart. The gesture indicated a certain degree of understanding, though Snape could not be certain that Potter had given any thought to the physical nature of their relationship. Looking even more embarrassed, Potter added, "I know that they lived together. And I know he wasn't doing well after Sirius -- "

The word that Potter wanted had apparently eluded him again, or perhaps he simply could not bring himself to describe Black's death. After a moment, Snape nodded, encouraging the boy to continue.

"He was in a bad way, even if everybody was trying to pretend he was fine. And his health is worse now, right?"

"In point of fact..." Snape began, but Potter cut him off again.

"He sends me owls telling me that he's feeling much better, but I haven't really believed him. And now you, of all people, come to tell me..." It was obvious now from the shake in his voice that Potter was upset. "Not even Dumbledore. He sent you." Frowning, Snape studied the same spot on the desk as Potter, unable to follow his train of thought until he burst out, "Lupin is dying, isn't he."

For a ghastly moment Snape thought that Potter was going to cry; he was already shifting, hunting for a handkerchief, when he noticed that the boy was not tearful but furious. "Listen to me, Potter..."

"He's dying, and he couldn't even tell me himself. Could he? Did he send you because he thought I wouldn't care?"

"Potter..."

"Is there something that could have been done, or did he just decide that with Sirius gone he didn't want to..."

"Harry," said Snape, gritting his teeth to force out the name, if only to interrupt this diatribe. "Calm down. He is not dying. In fact, he appears to be much stronger than he has been for months."

It took a moment for the words to register. Though Potter looked initially relieved, his anger did not diminish; it simply refocused, as if Snape rather than his own suppositions had led him to an incorrect conclusion. "He's not dying," he repeated slowly, studying Snape, who could not keep aggravation from his tone this time.

"Do you believe that I would stoop to lying to you about his health?" Potter shrugged, but his eyes lowered as Snape insisted, "He is doing quite well. He is healthier than I have seen him in a very long time."

"Well...good." Evidently ashamed of his outburst, Potter behaved as though itching to leave; he had already slid his books beneath his arm. "Thank you for telling me. Is that all?"

"'Is that all?' Is that all the concern you have for him?"

Now Potter looked irritated. "No, it's not! But it's not as if I could see him, so I'd like to owl him at least, and since you know how much homework I have to do, I had thought that perhaps I might do it now."

This was not going well at all, but the tirade had given Snape an idea. "I'm certain that he would like to see you." Potter said nothing, yet he looked slightly mollified. "Perhaps since it is the weekend..." Now the boy's eyebrows were hidden beneath his unruly hair, and Snape was sorry he had allowed himself to think aloud; he was very nearly committed. Perhaps that, too, might turn out for the best. "If you can manage your homework and you can spare the time from Quidditch practice and your friends, perhaps I will invite Lupin to Hogwarts."

Potter's eyes behind the owlish glasses showed something close to shock. "Wait. Are you saying you'd bring him to visit? That he'd come here to see me? Isn't that against the rules -- like having guests when it's not a visiting weekend?"

"While I am delighted to learn that you have begun to pay attention to the rules, I must admit to being somewhat surprised. With Black gone, I suppose that Lupin is now akin to a godfather to you, which would allow his presence to be considered a familial visitation allowed under exceptional circumstances when it is not a visiting weekend. Even so, he would be here at my behest, not yours, and I can promise nothing. I have not yet asked him, and I imagine that he may want to speak to the headmaster before taking such a step."

"Please, Professor Snape." Now the boy was quite humble. "I would like to see him. Will you ask him? I would be very grateful..."

"I will contact him right now, if you care to wait." With a little impatient sigh, Potter nodded. "His welfare is important to you, I trust?" Snape received another nod, and noted, "It is to me as well." That appeared to be even more startling news. Deciding that it would definitely be best to save any additional conversation on the subject until after he had spoken to Lupin, Snape gathered his class notes to take with him into his office. "I shall return in a few minutes. In the meantime it might be in your best interest to start working on that essay on mortuary potions."

He would rather have used some means of communication other than the floo network, but it was the quickest method to safely contact Grimmauld Place now that the Ministry had lifted its restrictions. Fortunately Lupin was in the library, and he answered the summons at once. Though Snape had been concerned that his onetime colleague might have reservations about visiting Hogwarts, which held so many emotional memories for him, Lupin sounded happy at the prospect.

Leaving the privacy of his office, Snape found Potter in the classroom perusing the contents of a locked glass cabinet. Glaring mildly, he said, "After supper, meet me in my office. Don't be late. And don't tell your little circle of Gryffindors. Lupin does not need to be greeted by a chattering mob..."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise." Gathering up his books, the boy headed toward the door, turning almost as an afterthought and saying, "Thank you, Professor." It was a certainty that the creature would tell Granger and Weasley, but Granger could be counted upon for her cleverness if not her manners and would keep Weasley quiet for the evening, at least.

Sure enough, all three of the Gryffindors watched the potions master surreptitiously from their table as he hastily forced down his meal. He had not mentioned to Lupin during their brief conversation over the insecure floo connection that he had not yet told Potter anything of importance, and he still had no idea of precisely what he might say.

Potter was, naturally, late in arriving at his office, while Lupin came through early, before Snape had even spoken to McGonagall to arrange for a suitable guest room in Gryffindor Tower. "The talk went well?" he asked, smiling delightedly as he grabbed Snape in an exuberant hug.

"It did not." Instantly the grin faded, and Snape added quickly, "Nothing untoward was said. Potter was distracted. He feared that I had called him aside to tell him that you were terminally ill."

First shock, then shame crept over Lupin's features. "I should have kept in closer contact with him."

"Fretting about it now will not improve the situation, which I believe may work to your advantage, as he seemed extremely relieved to learn that you were not in mortal danger. Any lesser shock may not distress him so much. Lupin...I must ask you, did he know that you and Black were..." Unable to find a term that was appropriate and did not disturb him personally, he echoed Potter's gesture of the clasped hands from earlier, making a rather disdainful face.

Frowning slightly, Lupin nodded, though Snape couldn't have said whether the dissatisfied expression stemmed from the gesture itself or the question. "I had assumed that he did."

"But you never spoke about it."

"Not in so many words. But he saw us together, Severus. He saw how others treated us as a pair. I would think that he preferred the details left to the imagination -- or perhaps I should say I would think that he preferred not to imagine the details at all."

Privately, Snape echoed that sentiment. Aloud he asked, "Do you think it is necessary to risk embarrassing him? He is not a fool. If he observes us, it is likely that he will guess, very quickly..."

"I'm sorry, Severus, but I do think it is necessary to risk embarrassing us all." Lupin smiled apologetically. "Perhaps it's just as well that you didn't speak to him, because if we are both present, there can be no risk of his disbelieving you or thinking that perhaps you manipulated me. But if we say nothing at all and he learns on his own, he may feel that I was dishonest with him, too cowardly to come forward or being unduly influenced by you. It needs to be said."

While Snape considered this, Lupin walked around the office, occasionally touching some of the rarer objects. "Careful with that! It's rhinoceros," Snape warned as his lover lifted a horn from a shelf. He felt faintly embarrassed, as he was certain Lupin knew that rhinoceros horn was used in Asian aphrodisiacs. "It was a gift." Lupin raised an eyebrow at him, and Snape felt obligated to explain, "From long ago. I believe it was intended to be a joke. As you can see, I have not ground it into powder for use." Fumbling for a distraction, he lifted a series of items from his desk. "I believe that this tusk came from a pygmy flying elephant. And this phial contains water from an iceberg in Antarctica, said to be the purest in the world."

"How remarkable, Severus." Lupin examined both thoroughly. "You have quite the collection. Wherever did you get these?"

"The water was a gift from the parent of a student. I was not entirely certain whether it was appropriate to accept such an offering, but he was from one of the very old, wealthy Slytherin families and had acceptable though undistinguished marks. I thought that if it remained at Hogwarts as part of the Potions collection, there would be no harm in accepting." Lupin nodded. "The tusk I confiscated from a NEWT-level student; since the trade has been banned, there is no excuse to be using any sort of ivory in healing potions."

The horn, of course, had been a gift from Lucius Malfoy. As Snape wondered whether he should tell Lupin, he remembered something else that he had confiscated from a student and opened a cabinet. "Here. Chocolate liqueur. I discovered it in a Slytherin dormitory room and had not yet turned it over to Filch." Lupin's eyes lit up, and he gave Snape a teasing smile, clearly aware that Snape had not intended to turn in the alcohol with any speed. "Since it has already been opened, would you like some?"

He poured for both of them and had a mouthful of the sweet liquid when Lupin suddenly put down his glass and took one of Snape's hands in his own. "Thank you. Thank you for thinking to ask me to come here."

"I was unsure whether being here would bring back unpleasant memories."

"My time here was not unpleasant, Severus. Quite the contrary. I have far more good memories than bad ones, both as a student and as a teacher."

"I did not mean unpleasant memories of Hogwarts. I meant unpleasant memories of me."

Lupin shook his head, moving closer. He had set Snape's glass down beside his own and was clasping both his hands, moments from kissing him, when the door burst open without a knock and Harry Potter flew into the room. "I'm very sorry to be late, Professor, Peeves was...oh! Professor Lupin!"

"I'm not your professor anymore, Harry," Lupin said with a laugh, dropping Snape's hands and walking over to take Potter's. "You can call me Remus, you know. You always called Sirius by his name." The boy was staring from Lupin to Snape, who was certain that he had seen them holding hands, but after a moment he seemed to overlook it and beamed at Lupin.

"I'm so glad to see you -- I'd thought you were ill." Potter blushed as if recognizing that perhaps he should not have spoken so bluntly. "When Professor Snape said that he needed to talk to me..."

Then Potter looked somewhat puzzled, realizing that Snape never had told him why he had wanted to speak with him earlier. Before he could ask, Lupin interrupted gently, "Why don't we take a walk. The astronomy tower, perhaps." Snape was about to object when he realized that his office was certainly not an ideal place for the necessary revelation. In addition to the implication that he would be speaking as a professor, any possible association with the disastrous occlumency lessons was best avoided.

"Yes, let's all take a walk," Snape agreed. Potter cast him an incredulous glare, then turned to Lupin as if wondering what the man could be thinking, allowing Snape to come along, but he did not say a word as they left the room and began the long climb. The tower would be deserted and their conversation would not be overheard, nor might anyone chance to see an unhappy Potter fleeing if all did not go well. While they climbed, Lupin and the boy chatted quietly about the latter's studies and how Granger and Weasley were faring during the term, ignoring Snape's presence in their conversation, though both occasionally shot inquiring glances back at him.

When they stepped into the great elevated room, they startled Justin Finch-Fletchey and a girl who shrieked and ran, covering her face. Trapped, the Hufflepuff explained, "Professor! We were just, ah, I left my notes here, and -- oh Professor Lupin it's good to see you sir -- I had to get them for homework, and, hello Harry, you know how forgetful I can be..."

"We are all aware of the manner of 'studying' that takes place in the Astronomy Tower after lessons have ended for the day," Snape announced in his most deadly voice. "Take your things and leave before I am forced to deduct points from your House. I suggest that you mention this encounter to no one."

That would prevent attention being drawn to Lupin's visit and to any questions that might have been directed at Potter, he thought with grim satisfaction as Finch-Fletchey raced away. Yet Lupin was grinning irrepressibly. "No detention? Why, Severus, are you feeling quite well?"

"I am as well as I have ever been," Snape insisted somewhat belligerently. "And I was just telling Mr. Potter how much stronger you had become. Perhaps I have been influenced by your regular servings of chocolate and tea."

"It's very true." Lupin smiled apologetically at Potter, who was staring between them, all the while pretending to be distracted by a floating model of the planets circling the sun. "I'm afraid my eating habits have become a bad influence upon other members of the Order."

"He has not become a bad influence on you, I trust, Potter?"

"Uh. No, no, he hasn't." The stammer was not lost upon Snape or Lupin, who glanced at him inquiringly. The twist of Potter's face held suspicion, tempered by his wide, incredulous eyes, exaggerated behind the glasses. "Professor, I'm sorry to change the subject but if you don't mind my asking...was there a reason you wanted to talk to me before, other than to let me know that everything was all right?"

"Since you rarely allowed me to finish a sentence, I never did come to my point." It took a great deal of willpower for Snape to keep annoyance from his voice. "Concerning what we were discussing earlier..." The owlish face nodded, and Snape discovered that he still had no idea of exactly what to say. "I wished to explain. That is, we wished to explain." Scowling slightly, he gestured at Lupin, which earned him an encouraging smile and nod, but no verbal assistance. Taking his cue from Molly Weasley, Snape continued, "You know what it is that protects you from the Dark Lord."

Potter opened his mouth and for a moment Snape had the impression that the prat intended to make a sarcastic comment, but he glanced at Lupin and mastered the impulse. Nodding, Potter muttered, "Yes. My mother died for me. But what does this have to do with..."

"Why did she do that, Potter?"

"Because she loved me." The words were surprisingly bitter, as was the recitation that followed. "She sacrificed herself to save me, and her love left a mark in my skin."

"Then you know that love is not merely a luxury."

"Yes. But I still don't..."

Without waiting for him to finish, Snape insisted, "Stop interrupting! We had thought we should tell you..." He gestured at Lupin. "That." Hearing his own awkward speech pattern, he stopped to take a breath, which allowed Potter to cut in again.

"But I knew that already." He looked puzzled. "Wait. You had thought you should tell me...what?"

Snape glanced pointedly at Lupin, who nodded a little and spoke in a rather uncertain tone. "Harry, Severus and I are...that is to say...oh, this is difficult. We, ah..."

So Lupin could not find the words either. Again Snape looked at Potter's blank expression and heard Molly Weasley's voice in his own head telling him to be unequivocal. Far more defiantly than he intended, he tilted his head toward Lupin and announced, "I love him."

Potter stood absolutely still, blinking at Snape for so long that he wondered whether somehow the words had not sounded as lucid to the others as they had in his own ears. He looked over at Lupin for affirmation and was taken aback to see that his lover had tears in his eyes over the phrase he had never uttered to him directly. Following Snape's gaze, Potter turned to Lupin as well. With a watery but unforced smile, the other wizard said gently, "And I love him."

The boy's eyes dropped to the floor, and Snape added, "We thought it best if we told you, instead of your hearing a rumor from someone else, as news of this sort does tend to spread quickly. Although I must ask you to keep the information to yourself -- I am certain I don't have to tell you that there are those who might make use of it to do considerable damage to either of us."

Eyes closed, Potter nodded, with his mouth hanging open as if he wanted to say something but did not know what. Feeling quite encouraged that he had not been attacked nor subjected to some other foolish gesture, Snape inquired, "You understand, then? I had expected you to be rather more...displeased."

Again Potter glanced at Lupin, flinched slightly, and looked back at Snape. His expression grew animated, even angry. Bowing his head, Snape waited to hear what he would say.

"You're a poof?"

Simultaneously, Lupin put a hand on Snape's wrist and spoke Potter's name in a chastising tone, while Snape -- who thought that surely he could not have heard correctly -- demanded, "Excuse me?" Peering at Lupin, Potter turned a bit red and mumbled an apology, though his eyes clearly conveyed his sense of outrage. Entirely calmly, Snape inquired, "Did you have the same revulsion for your godfather's affections?"

Furiously Potter retorted, "Sirius wasn't a poof!"

"Harry!" Lupin objected, with a hint of a startled laugh. Snape had to force a smirk from his own face.

"Perhaps I am unclear about the meaning of the term." While Potter turned a much brighter shade of red, Snape glanced at Lupin. "I had no idea that Black's interest in you was entirely chaste."

"Severus," Lupin warned, though his amusement had not entirely disappeared. Potter turned with a contemptuous look that the other wizard met calmly. "Yes, Harry?" But the boy remained stubbornly silent.

"What is it that you're upset about?" Snape asked softly. "That he is with me? Or that Black was with him?" The glare turned from Lupin to himself. "Were you happier when you believed that I had come to tell you he was dying?"

Potter's mouth twisted as he glanced at Lupin. "You're actually happy with him? Not just desperate?"

"I'm happy," Lupin replied softly. "Do you have any idea how rare a thing it is to ask someone who spends time at Grimmauld Place whether he is happy and to receive an affirmative answer?

Potter's expression still showed more than a hint of betrayal. "Black is dead," Snape told him bluntly. "He is not coming back. You cannot expect those who loved him to stop their own lives from continuing in his absence."

"Sirius is dead because you..." Lupin shook his head hard and Potter fell silent, but his narrowed eyes and clenched teeth finished the thought for him.

"Don't you think that Sirius would want me to be happy?" asked Lupin.

"But with..." The child did not seem to be able to say Snape's name. "Why not Tonks?"

Lupin sighed. "Because I'm a poof, Harry." Potter scuffed his shoe against a banister. "Is that harder to accept than my being a werewolf?"

"I guess not," snapped Potter, with another glance at Snape.

"I believe that his objection is not to your proclivities but to your choice of a partner," Snape said to Lupin, who caught his hand and squeezed it, looking unhappily at Potter. "Neither of us is asking for your approval. Only that you understand what is at stake: his life, and perhaps my life, and while the latter may matter little to you, the lives of others who would be put at risk should anything happen to me."

"Fine. I understand." Potter looked even more unhappy than Lupin. "I won't tell anyone." He sounded as though that idea was in fact quite repulsive. "I don't want anything to happen to him."

Though Potter jerked his head toward Lupin, he seemed quite unable to look at him. Snape returned the pressure of his lover's fingers wrapped around his. "Then we have that in common, don't we."

"I suppose we do." The tone sounded sour and begrudging. It took a great deal of effort on Snape's part not to snarl in response.

"Then I want you to believe me when I say that if I have any power to intervene, I am not going to let anything happen to him. I know how little you trust me, but I brought him here to see you because I thought it would do some good for both of you. Can you trust me that far, at least?"

Potter nodded shortly. "Yes. Fine. Can I go now?"

Lupin managed to keep his face impassive, but Snape could tell from his sharp indrawn breath that the words had wounded him, and attempted to withdraw. "I must return to my office to mark essays. Don't you want to catch up with Lu-- with Remus?"

"I'm very tired, and I'd like to go to bed." Potter spoke in a monotone, and Lupin squeezed Snape's fingers in warning.

"Very well. I will see you at breakfast, Potter."

"Goodnight, Harry," added Lupin. Potter glanced at him, raising his face for a moment that allowed Snape to see that while he might have been angry, he was also hurt, with flaring nostrils and a lower lip that wouldn't hold still. Nodding at them both, he blurted out a goodnight and fled.

Quietly, once he was certain the little brute was out of earshot, Snape asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Severus." Lupin's mouth twisted unhappily, but he sighed in resignation. "That actually went better than I'd expected that it might...though I will admit it never occurred to me that he'd say 'Sirius wasn't a poof.'" The two of them shared a small, mirthless laugh. "I don't think that he will do anything foolish; it wouldn't surprise me if he did tell Ron or Hermione, but I also think the subject may be too embarrassing for him to take up even with them."

"Weasley is certain to learn eventually from his brothers, and Granger may very well have drawn her own conclusions about each of us already. Do you think he understood? Was there anything I should have said that I did not?"

"If there was, I don't know what it could have been." Lupin wandered to the model of the planets that Potter had used as a distraction, staring at the bodies in orbit as if he expected them to yield up a clue. "I expected him to have a fair bit more to say."

"I was prepared for insults or even the possibility that he might attempt to disarm me. We may hear a fair bit more tomorrow, when he is rested."

"That's very likely. Perhaps we should go to bed as well." Moving back toward the door, Lupin took both of Snape's hands in his. "Do you really have essays to mark? Or may I stay with you?"

Regretfully Snape replied, "Perhaps it would be best if we did not sleep in the same room." Lupin looked distinctly unhappy, so he added, "It would not surprise me if Potter wished to speak to you in the morning, alone. I hardly think that the situation will be improved if he finds that we have spent the night together. Nor, should there be an emergency requiring us both to exit, would I wish to bear the gossip." With another sigh, Lupin slipped his arms around Snape, who concluded wearily, "I am trying not to make things worse than they are."

"Do you think there would be much harm if I accompanied you for a little while? I know every secret passageway in this castle -- I could vanish very quickly later."

"You are incorrigible, Lupin." But he was also smiling, and Snape found that he had no wish to resist the request. Withdrawing his hands to find his wand and snuff the candles, he followed Lupin from the great height of the astronomy tower down to the dungeon where he had slept more often than anywhere else in his life, though he had never spent an entire night with any lover there.

In bed later, lying thoughtfully awake, he asked Lupin softly, "If it's true that love confers protection, why have we lost so many?"

"I don't know, Severus. I wish I did." Turning, Lupin brushed his hair back. "Harry was only a baby when his mother died. Whatever vestigial memories he has of her must be entirely of receiving love and comfort, and he has been told repeatedly that she gave her life for him. No matter how painful that might be, I think he believes in that love without any possibility of doubt. For the rest of us, there is probably always some doubt, or fear, or disbelief, and perhaps that prevents us from being marked by love so deeply."

It must have been a terribly unhappy thought for Lupin -- the fear that he had not cared for Black enough to keep him safe. Snape felt an instant of deeply selfish pleasure, followed by the inevitable guilt, though he clung to the belief that Lupin had not loved Black so completely that there would never be room in his heart for another. Aloud he said, "I know we had agreed that I should speak to Potter alone, but I am not sorry that you were there. I am sorry if I have made you doubt...I meant what I said to him."

"I know you did, Severus." Lupin gazed at him in the dim light, his eyes bright once more. "Thank you." Their lips came together, and it became unnecessary to rely upon words.

Several hours later Snape awoke at the sound of a knock. Lupin was still asleep in his bed, curled against his chest; shaking him, he breathed in a nearly silent voice, "Wake up." There was very little doubt in his mind about who would have breached his privacy in such a manner and at such an hour. In a loud, clear voice, he called, "A moment, please," flinging Lupin's clothes at him from where they lay scattered. Returning to a whisper, he said, "I suggest that you leave by way of the fireplace and use one of the more usual methods to return to the astronomy tower; I will find you there before breakfast."

Tugging on his own robes as Lupin struggled to dress and disappear, Snape waved his wand to make the bedcovers straighten themselves and attempted to hide all evidence that he had had a visitor. When he had done all he could, he stepped into the outer room and called, "Come in." Just as he had anticipated, Potter opened the door and stepped inside, looking around uneasily. In an awkward voice, -- awkward because he allowed himself neither to scold nor to fume -- Snape said, "Ah. Potter. Sit down. Would you like tea?" The boy sat on his sofa, twisting his hands together, as Snape found his teapot, filled it, put a spell on it to warm it and brought over fragrant-smelling cups. "Would you like sugar?"

"Yes, please." That was kept in a small hidden drawer in the end table, but Snape's pleasure at making the secret compartment appear was quickly diminished as he and Potter both noticed the large quantities of chocolate beside the covered sugar bowl, which Snape had quite forgotten. In a neutral tone, the boy observed, "I guess spending time with Remus would give anybody a sweet tooth."

The casual way Potter said "anybody" made Snape narrow his eyes. Molly Weasley's words came back to him once more, as well as his own concerns from the night before. "Perhaps I was not emphatic enough," he said to Potter. "This is not a dalliance. I've no idea what you perceived of Lupin's relationship with Black, nor what you might have assumed about myself, but I assure you that we are not merely indulging a whim."

Potter stared down into his teacup. "You really...love him?" Snape had to bite back a retort at the dubious tone, and simply nodded. "But I thought you hated him. You told everyone that he was a werewolf. You drove him away from here." The shame of it was so acute coming from James Potter's son that Snape had to take several sips of tea to master himself before he could speak, while the boy stared at him in bitter triumph. "That doesn't sound like love to me. I'm smarter than you'll give me credit for."

"I'm afraid that intelligence wasn't what I was crediting you with, Potter," sighed Snape.

"Then what? Why have you always hated me so much? Because you can't forgive my father for dying before you could have revenge for things he did when he was my age, or because you can't forgive me for surviving when they died? Is it because I'm supposed to have a weapon against Voldemort and you envy it, or resent it? Do you just hate me for being The Boy Who Lived?"

Putting down his cup so forcefully that it made a clinking noise, Snape folded his hands and looked into the fireplace rather than at Potter. "Has it ever once occurred to you that I treat you as I do for a reason other than loathing? Can you not recall that the headmaster kept his distance from you for a year and required you to learn occlumency against your wishes for reasons he could not at the time explain? Can you conceive of nothing you might learn from one who does not grovel before Harry Potter, who must be treated with deference and allowed to start trouble wherever he wishes..."

"I do not start trouble," Potter retorted furiously. "It comes looking for me. Do you think I like having newspapers calling me crazy? Do you think I wanted my name put forward for the Tri-Wizard Tournament when I was too young? Or that I wanted to confront the Death-Eaters? Nobody will tell me anything, nobody will let me help, nobody's explained anything to me for six years! How do you expect me to stay out of trouble when I don't even know what's going on half the time?"

"I have repeatedly asked Professor Dumbledore whether you should be better informed or better warned, but it has been his decision to allow you what innocence may be left to you. The fact that his methods and mine differ does not make me your enemy. Can your adolescent brain come up with a single reason why it should be in my advantage for things to have befallen as they did, or do you believe the headmaster to be such a fool that he would allow me to destroy you within these very walls?"

"I don't think you need to be a Death-Eater to hate me. You hated Sirius!" cried Potter.

"Contrary to what you may believe, I had neither the time nor the energy to despise Black during the past year, whereas he had a great deal of spare time to spend treating me with contempt. He spent many years in prison, and I did not think of him at all; apparently the reverse was not the same, as I was a particularly unpleasant memory for him and thus safe from the ravages of the dementors. It is exceedingly arrogant of you to believe that I would waste my time despising either of you. Have your other teachers warned you away from me -- has Professor McGonagall suggested that you skip my classes? I know very well what your friends think of me, but do the other students show concern -- has Malfoy been visiting to express his shock at my maltreatment of you?"

"Malfoy!" Potter's eyes grew wide. "Oh, please, the entire time we've been here he's been too busy taunting me to do anything else."

"Have you failed to notice the way Malfoy treats everyone who is not a member of his inner circle, and often those who are? I don't suppose the special treatment your little group receives might have anything to do with the fact that one of you is always correcting him, one of you is always insulting him, and one of you has older brothers infamous for playing pranks on his House?" Though Lucius' son had little of the subtlety and less of the refinement of his father, Draco interested Snape both as a reflection of Lucius and as a likely follower of the Dark Lord. While Snape did encourage the young Slytherin's skill at potions -- somehow young Malfoy failed to notice the lack of sincerity in his professor's smile -- he also paid close attention to the attitudes of Draco's peers. "I do suppose that ignoring him would be impossible. You are, after all, only a teenager..."

"It's hard to ignore somebody who insults your best friends!"

"Is it really." Snape crossed his arms. "Certainly nothing like that ever happened to any wizards of my generation. No one ever called anyone a name, nor used magic to torment him, and certainly no one ever played dangerous pranks that could have got someone killed. Tell me, Potter, whom do you believe was the Draco Malfoy of my own era?"

"So I should 'ignore' Malfoy the way you ignored Sirius?" Potter snapped. "And the way you ignored Remus, getting him sacked from a job he loved, more than ten years later, because it's so easy to forgive and forget?"

Strange that Lupin should have been more willing to absolve Snape of that choice than was Potter. "If you think that I mentioned the nature of Lupin's condition out of a petty desire for revenge, you are mistaken," Snape said as coldly as he could. "I had persuaded myself that if Dumbledore would not take steps to protect those at Hogwarts, someone needed to find a way. You do understand that he very nearly killed you the night of Black's return? That might have killed all your friends, all because he did not take the potion with which I diligently provided him? You saw what he was capable of!"

Potter looked directly at him, lips compressed so that they were pale, and Snape could not decide whether he saw fury or fear there. "Yes, I saw. But I'm not the one who was terrified, Professor. I'm not the one who hated him for it. Which is why I hope you understand that I have trouble believing you now when you say you love him!"

"Is that the basis of all your unhappiness -- that you doubt my feelings for him?"

"Of course that's not all!" Potter's anger spilled over along with his tea, which splashed across his lap as his hand shook. Snape uttered a quick charm to clean his clothes, concerned that the hot liquid might have burned him but uncertain whether Potter might resent him for asking. "Remus and Sirius were...they were in love!"

It was unpleasant to be reminded of that at all; even more so to be reminded by Black's godson. Snape took a sip of his own tea, again willing calm. "And you think I have betrayed Black's memory."

"Not you," Potter said softly. All the fight went out of him, and he sank back against the cushions, holding the cup in careless fingers that allowed more tea to spill. At once Snape understood why the boy had come to himself and not Lupin to talk. He was amazed, and regretful that he had been so confrontational.

"Then it is Lupin you blame. Would it have made a difference if he was involved with someone other than myself? If it could have been Tonks, or perhaps Shacklebolt?"

"Shacklebolt's a...?"

Potter managed to bite down on the question, but not before Snape had raised an eyebrow. "Not that it is any of your business, but I do not wish you to spread rumors based on erroneous assumptions. I chose Shacklebolt merely as an example. To the best of my knowledge, he has always dated women." There was mordant amusement in Potter's shrug. "I am surprised to learn that you share the pureblood prejudice against couplings between two wizards or two witches..."

"I don't. Well, I grew up hearing things, or at least my uncle always said them, but I've never listened to him about anything anyway. I didn't mean anything by that word, I just said it because I could. It seemed more sensible than calling you a greasy git."

Snape found that it was his turn for amusement. "I see. Then is your objection to Lupin being close to anyone other than Black, or is it that you resent me in particular?"

"He hated you," repeated the boy stubbornly. "I don't know if I'd be able to be happy right away for Remus no matter who it was, but I would think Sirius would think anyone was better than you." Penetrating eyes suddenly fixed his own through their rounded glasses. "Wouldn't you think so?"

"It cannot have escaped your attention that in the last months of his life, Sirius Black was a very unhappy man," Snape noted. "Wrongfully imprisoned for so much of his life, robbed of as many of his memories as the dementors could touch. What is it that you think he would have wished for Lupin once he was gone?"

Potter looked down into his teacup again, scowling, because there was only one logical and acceptable answer to the question. "I hope he'd want Remus to be happy."

"Do you think it would please him to know that you begrudged Lupin what joy he might find?" In truth, Black might very well have begrudged Lupin this; Snape could read the thought in Potter's expression as well, and changed tactics. "In any event, do you think it might be possible for you to turn whatever hostility you may be harboring against Lupin upon me instead, and spare him? He has certainly suffered enough."

"I probably could." The boy's look was defiant, though decidedly unhappy. "You're here. And Sirius isn't. And if you'd done what Dumbledore asked, he might be. I know you probably think it's as much my fault as it is yours, but no one would tell me what I needed to know, and there's only so much I..."

Snape could not bear to hear the self-absorbed sufferings of the Boy Who Lived. "We all made a great many mistakes last spring," he interrupted. "Myself, you, and others." He would never have spoken ill of Dumbledore in Potter's presence, but Potter was nodding, seeming to understand. "It is not necessary that you like me, nor even that you treat me with the courtesy that is due my position, as you so rarely have. But if Lupin and I were able to put aside much graver conflicts, I do not think it is asking too much to expect you to treat him with respect."

"It hasn't even been very long, since Sirius...since he fell." The ongoing refusal to speak of Black as dead troubled Snape: did Potter believe that his godfather could somehow come back and reclaim his life? "At least tell me Remus spent some time mourning, first."

This was a truly astonishing statement. "You saw him," Snape reminded Potter. "When I mentioned his name to you, your first thought was that he must have been on his deathbed. Not everyone mourns with public lamentations. I had thought you understood this, after what happened to Diggory."

Perhaps this was treading on ground better avoided, yet again Potter nodded a little. "It did take awhile for it to sink in. And I was barely even Cedric's friend." His expression had grown somber. "I guess Remus was in shock?"

"In fact, your initial supposition was correct. He was dying. There are many ways to put an end to one's own life. Failing to eat, going mechanically about one's work, placing oneself in danger unnecessarily..."

"And no one else was doing anything to help him?"

"On the contrary, many people were doing all they could. Mrs. Weasley, for one." Snape felt a ghost of a smile threatening. "She enlisted me, over quite a lengthy period of time. I only agreed to speak to Lupin because I had a similar fear to your own; I was not certain that he would have chosen to live." Finally the boy was listening wholeheartedly, and Snape pressed on. "Would you rather that I had let him waste away and die? Would that have better served the Order, or done greater honor to the memory of Sirius Black?"

"No." Potter's face had gone white. "It wouldn't have. I'm -- thank you."

Abruptly Snape was reminded that he was speaking to a child, not an adult wizard, even if this child was The Boy Who Lived. Reaching into the drawer from which he had retrieved the sugar, he pulled out a chocolate bar and put it in Potter's hand, taking away the teacup with the other. He said only, "Will you go and see him?"

"Yes. I will." There was still no warmth in Potter's eyes, but the implacable rage was absent as well, and Snape very nearly managed a smile.

"I believe that you will find Lupin in the astronomy tower. Please remind him not to be tardy for breakfast, or there will be no more chocolate for either of you later."


	10. Charmed Memory

Azkaban could not hold Lucius Malfoy. Like Sirius Black, he was not given the opportunity to testify in his own defense, but unlike Black, he had no need to do so; mere weeks after his imprisonment, he walked out a free man. In the absence of the dementors it was likely that he would have been able to escape on his own, yet a breakout never became necessary. He had powerful friends at the Ministry, allies in every country in Europe, an outraged mob of supporters whose businesses and charities had benefited from his family's contributions. Moreover, he had explanations, excuses, and the most damning evidence against him came from a recently disgraced headmaster along with group of children including a boy widely believed to be unstable.

From the moment he had seen Goyle at Hogwarts, Snape had known that an invitation would come, and while he might have been able to postpone seeing Malfoy, he could not refuse it outright. Snape understood that his connection to the Death-Eater was invaluable to the Order, and there was no one else who understood Lucius so well -- not even his own wife -- even though Dumbledore might not have asked Snape to continue, had he realized precisely what Malfoy would expect of him.

So Snape waited, attempting to disguise his apprehension from Lupin, not wishing to guess at what might happen when inevitably he received a summons from the wizard who had been his mentor and lover for nearly half his life. Lupin did not pry, but a man with half his sensitivity could not have avoided noticing Snape's agitation. Nor could Lupin have helped observing Snape's dislike of certain activities. It must have been apparent that Snape loathed being restrained or being made to beg, for Lupin no longer tried, though he could not have guessed the associations in Snape's mind because Snape had never told him. Most of the time, being with Lupin was so exceptional compared to every previous lover that it was rare for Snape to find his pleasure disrupted by memories.

He knew that Lupin was only trying to entice him, the evening he wrapped his arms around Snape from behind, pinning him momentarily against the back of a chair and murmuring, "I'd like to use Immobilus on you like this and suck you until you scream." Lupin misunderstood Snape's involuntary shiver as his neck was licked, laughing and repeating the gesture, and when Snape shuddered again, recoiling, it wounded Lupin, who assumed that his lover was reacting out of an instinctive fear of being bitten by a werewolf. "Severus, I'm sorry," he said in a voice so thick that Snape was ashamed. "I didn't _think_..."

Turning to face Lupin, Snape rose out of his chair. "Have you ever had anyone use Immobilus on you in that manner?" He meant to explain, but when Lupin gave him an embarrassed nod, he grew annoyed instead. "Then you know that it is impossible to scream unless the reaction is wholly involuntary, and a scream may not indicate pleasure. With Immobilus it is possible to coax sounds from the most unwilling of participants." Brow furrowed unhappily, Lupin nodded again, and Snape was quite unable to keep disgust from his voice as he snapped, "I suppose you must enjoy that. Perhaps you should have been the Death-Eater."

Lupin didn't say a word, yet he took a step back and might have walked out of the room had Snape not reached out to catch his wrist. "_He_ used Immobilus, just before giving a wizard the Dark Mark. It would have been impossible to remain still, otherwise. It's excruciatingly painful, you know. Many wizards pass out."

"I didn't know," replied Lupin. "I'm truly sorry. I had no idea it would remind you of that." The apology only deepened Snape's guilt, however, because the memory with which he was struggling came from long before he became a Death-Eater. It involved Lucius Malfoy and one of Snape's earliest sexual experiences, and it made him blush, even as he shuddered again, which Lupin misread once more. "I do understand, Severus. I've never been able to play any sort of games involving collars."

"Pity. I would think the humor in that would have appealed to Black."

The words were spat with excess venom, but Lupin responded with a mollifying smile. "Oh, it did. He joked about it. But he wouldn't have done anything to hurt me, and of course he knew about the history of werewolves and silver collars and chains."

"He wouldn't have done anything to hurt you, yet he used Immobilus on you? It's said to be nearly as dangerous as erotic asphyxiation."

"Not everything Sirius did made sense. But I was usually willing to go along with whatever he wanted."

"You never said no?" Lupin shook his head. "Because you never wanted to refuse, or you simply didn't want to say it?" A slight wince answered Snape's question. "Are you sorry, now, that you didn't?"

"I suppose I learned to tell myself I wanted what he wanted until it became true. I didn't want to lose him -- I was desperately afraid that I would. It was hard for me to believe that anyone could want me for myself. Keeping silent on occasion seemed a very small price to pay."

"Didn't you want to be certain there was some part of you that you had not compromised?"

"Oh, I never felt compromised. I loved him too much, and he would have compromised a great deal more for me." At some point during the conversation, Snape had released Lupin's wrist and let their fingers link together. Now Lupin squeezed his hand, rubbing back and forth between his knuckles. "Severus...do you want to know about my experiences, or are you trying to tell me yours?"

Taking a breath, Snape retrieved his hand and wiped the damp palm over his forehead, shoving his hair back. "Malfoy called me his whore," he said. "And I suppose that he was right -- I became a Death-Eater for him. But I always assumed that I would eventually lose him, and I wanted to be certain that when it happened, I would have some small amount of myself." There was no censure in Lupin's eyes, only sympathy. "You must have been very strong," he said quietly. "Obviously you came away with more than just a small amount of yourself."

"As it happened, that was nearly all I came away with. But I did leave." Reaching out, Lupin took his hand again; Snape traced the veins in his lover's wrist with his thumb, studying the thin, translucent skin marked with a scar that made him wonder if the wolf had at one time tried to end its own torment. "I could not afford to tell myself things in order to make them true to myself -- I allowed myself no conscious self-deception. It was difficult enough to avoid it unconsciously. It still is. And...I must be able to lie to him."

"I understand." A quick lean forward brought Lupin close enough to kiss him as he spoke, touching Snape's face. "I want you to feel you can be honest with me, though. To talk about anything you don't want to have to bear alone, even if it might be unpleasant."

"It might be more than unpleasant. I do not wish for you to feel...betrayed."

"Oh, Severus, I won't. You don't have to tell me the details, but it's been quite apparent both what you expect when you see Malfoy and what you fear. If you do want to tell me, I'm not afraid to know." As his arms came around him, Lupin sighed, "Just remember that I love you."

The impact of those words had not faded with repeated hearing. Snape drew in a ragged breath, holding Lupin, wondering whether he could possibly realize the nature of Snape's lies to Lucius. Despite the things he had been forced to say in the past -- oaths he had sworn, falsehoods he had spoken directly to his former associates -- it was shockingly difficult to say what he knew he must. "Remus...I must be able to deny you. The truth could cost us both our lives. You must understand that there are situations in which we might find ourselves where I would have no choice but to declare that you mean nothing to me." Lupin looked distressed, but he was nodding. "And promise me that you will not profess loyalty to me if it would threaten your safety. Say whatever you must: I will know the truth."

"So will I." With a hand on his chin, Lupin tilted Snape's head so he was looking directly into his eyes. "Whatever it is you have to do, Severus...I forgive you. It changes nothing. I'll be with you."

Privately, Snape knew that the last could not be true; for the safety of Lupin as well as the entire Order, he planned to leave his most dangerous memories locked in his office inside a Pensieve. He supposed that doing so might leave him more vulnerable to Malfoy and possibly to Voldemort as well. But at least it meant that Lupin would be safe.

The elegant letter sealed with the Malfoy crest was delivered to Snape at Hogwarts by a large, magnificent owl that flew through an open window as he walked, alone, through an otherwise deserted corridor -- a well-trained owl that waited patiently for his response, though Snape did not answer the note until after he had locked himself away in his office to concentrate, choosing his words carefully. Despite the formality of the invitation, he suspected that the meeting would be private rather than a gathering of Death-Eaters or Malfoy's friends.

It took him many careful hours to prepare, carefully selecting recollections too dangerous to risk Malfoy discovering in an unguarded moment and placing the delicate gossamer strands in the Pensieve. He removed his recent memories of Lupin last, leaving only a faint acceptance of friendship between them. Some confusion lingered in his mind when he had finished, but the sense of loss, the inner emptiness, was not unfamiliar; those had been with him since he had left Lucius years before, and they settled like an accustomed weight in his chest.

Something seemed to be missing when he had finished, however. A compulsion sent him searching for the amulet which held his happiest memory of Lucius, from an afternoon long before the Death-Eaters had entered his life. He remembered hiding it for safekeeping, and quite recently, though he could not recall why he had believed it to be at risk, and after quite a long and fruitless search he guessed at its location in a secret drawer inexplicably filled with chocolate. He did not dare risk weakening himself by allowing himself to experience the memory it held, but he buried the amulet deep in a hidden pocket, carrying it with him as a talisman as he had done for so long.

Though their relationship had been strained for many years and had grown even more awkward since the Dark Lord's return, Malfoy greeted him with great enthusiasm, sitting him down to an extravagant meal, then walking him through the mansion and gardens to show off his latest acquisitions. Draco, of course, was at school, while Narcissa was evidently traveling, and all the human servants had been dismissed for the evening, though Snape was aware of elves working quietly, then disappearing behind curtains and around corners whenever he and Lucius approached.

He had expected to feel more awkward at the Malfoy home than he did, given the recent unpleasantness at the Ministry of Magic and Malfoy's role in the death of Sirius Black, but it was easy enough, in Lucius' presence, to put some of the more absurd accusations aside...to remember that this man had never been incautious, nor even so publicly cruel to Snape as Black himself. Moreover, in Lucius' presence it was impossible to forget the man's charisma, his sharp features and graceful carriage, but most of all the unexpected allure of his smile. Every room in the house held some memory for Snape, and while some were mingled with pain and shame, many brought echoes of overwhelming physical pleasure that made his body respond, though with a sluggishness that had not afflicted him when he was young and Lucius had first taught him these pleasures.

Snape experienced a single, uncanny moment when Lucius offered him chocolate, which made him think with odd intensity of Remus Lupin, who had always had a passion for sweets. He dismissed the thought as guilt over Black's death and Lupin's recent civility, and turned his attention back to his former lover, whose confidence made it difficult to believe in his subservience to any Dark Lord. The tour ended in the library, where the Malfoys had a recently acquired a very rare first edition of a book of potions written by a witch attached to the Medici family. While Severus carefully turned the ancient pages, he felt Lucius' hand move around his waist, pulling him into an embrace.

"I've missed you," the older wizard sighed. "This arrangement is dreadful. Very soon, when the Dark Lord is restored, it will no longer be necessary." As he put the book down, Snape tried to twist out of his arms, but Lucius only caught him between his hands, backing him against a bookcase. Turning his head to the side, Snape pretended to be examining the titles on the shelf across from him. "You can't hide from me, Severus. I know you doubt me. I know you've tried to convince Dumbledore" -- the name was said as if it referred to an offensive smell -- "that you've entirely renounced your allegiance to our Lord, but you can't pretend to have forgotten what you are to me."

This was a rather strong statement for an opening ploy from Malfoy, and as such easier for Snape to resist than the more usual, more subtle modes of attack. He asked softly, "What, then, are your plans for me after the Dark Lord is restored?"

"You'll be at my side, of course." Malfoy smiled at the question. "Neither of us has been able to choose what he wanted for a long time, have we, Severus?" Fingers slid into his hair as Lucius murmured, "It feels so good to be alone with you, even if it's only for a single evening."

Snape felt his eyes grow heavy and sink closed at the seductive touch. Never before had Malfoy approached him like this, making promises, speaking of the future; certainly it suggested a sort of desperation, and of course no personal feeling beyond a likely promise to Voldemort to keep the potions master in the fold, but any such weakness could be exploited so long as Snape remained in control of himself. "Goyle told me that he had a message from you," he said in as neutral a tone as possible.

"That was a message conveyed from another." So Voldemort was planning to summon Snape back into the circle of Death-Eaters once more. "They don't know you as I do, Severus -- most of them believe that you've betrayed our master. I've always defended you, but it may not be enough; soon, you must appear at my side rather than absenting yourself whenever there is a confrontation." Snape stole a glance at him, pulling back slightly, and Malfoy met his gaze with a wistful smile before lunging forward to kiss him.

A small whimper escaped Snape's nose, not really a moan, something bordering on surprise. But he did not push Lucius away, not even when the other man tried to part his lips and his robes at the same time. Snape's hand gripped the shelf behind him, for he was afraid it might shake if he let himself touch Malfoy who eagerly plundered his mouth, tugging open his clothing, then stroking over his trousers. For a moment Snape wondered whether Dumbledore had ever understood exactly what he was asking him to do for the enemies of Voldemort when he asked him to remain in contact with Malfoy. Pushing the thought aside with great vehemence -- and why couldn't he remember the name of the group that had opposed the Dark Lord? -- he grasped Lucius' arms and finally kissed him back, hearing Lucius groan deep in his throat, feeling him press even closer.

"Come to my bedroom. Please." There had been a time when Snape had not believed Lucius capable of saying that word in such a context, but there had never been a time when he could have refused such a request without consequences. Nodding, he followed his longtime lover and could not stop himself from reaching to stroke the blond hair. With a deep sigh Lucius tilted his head into Snape's hands, letting him bury his fingers in the thick soft locks, and murmured, "I am entirely at your disposal. Just tell me what you want."

Snape took hold of his shoulder and spun him around, then leaned in to kiss him again. "You're so very eager," he observed. "It isn't like you to ask rather than to command."

With a soft moan Lucius nodded, reaching for his hand. "I am too impatient to wish to play games this evening. It has been far too long. Come with me. Please." Again a request rather than an order, though Lucius tugged on him rather insistently. "I told you I'd missed you. Sometimes I was afraid that you really had left me."

Was it a request for a declaration of loyalty, or merely a ploy to make Snape prove his affections in a manner that would gratify Malfoy's desires? His eyes, though shuttered with apparent lust, revealed nothing. Snape shook his head, lifting his hands to the unlined face -- seemingly impervious to the ravages of aging and even to Azkaban -- as Lucius said, "You could have accepted my invitations, especially this past year. Draco is your student. Dumbledore knows that we are old friends. Surely he wouldn't begrudge you an evening visiting one of the governors of Hogwarts? It might look to some as though you've been avoiding me."

"I thought it safer for both of us if I stayed away, especially this year. The events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament made things very difficult for me."

"Yet you came tonight." Lucius stroked his face, leading him into the familiar rooms in which they were first lovers, although Lucius had in principle moved into the enormous master suite where he and Snape had once defiled his mother's bed -- now the province of Narcissa Black Malfoy, rooms where Snape suspected Lucius rarely wished to linger. "Just tell me what you want. I'll deny you nothing, but I can't read you as I used to."

The statement was not as subtle as Lucius might once have been, but perhaps Snape was meant to see through it. "I want you. Can't you feel it?" he asked, reaching to unfasten Lucius' robes, sliding his hands into the luxuriant fabrics, stroking across skin as it was bared to him.

Something felt strange -- wrong -- about the smooth flesh beneath his fingers, as if Snape's hands were trying to remember a sensation quite lost to his mind, but a moment later he was distracted as Lucius groaned, "I've always loved the way you touch me." Snape urged him onto the bed, pulling off his boots and socks, then his trousers, leaning down to lick along his thigh beside the cock twitching in the air and making Lucius groan again. "Take anything you want from me. Have me however you like."

Rising, Snape removed his own clothing, then stretched out alongside Lucius with a hand on his chest. Lightly he pinched a nipple. "That is a very generous offer."

Lucius grunted and jerked against him. "Perhaps I've changed. So have you. Let me show you how it could be." When he bent his head to lick Lucius' shoulder, Snape found himself rubbing against his thigh, which slid wantonly apart from the other, trying to push beneath Snape's body and urge him on top of Lucius. This certainly was a change: after so much time apart, Snape had expected to be dominated utterly, a reminder from Lucius of who had always held the power in this relationship. Instead the older wizard was sprawled open, legs spreading as widely as the hair that fanned across the mattress. "What do you want?" Lucius asked again.

Moving between his legs, Snape touched his face, wondering what Lucius was playing at. In all likelihood this was a ploy like the one Malfoy had unleashed years earlier, taking him to New Orleans, treating him like a lover and a colleague, only to manipulate him into joining the Death-Eaters. Lucius' eagerness seemed to be sincere, but then he had always enjoyed being taken on the rare occasions when he allowed himself to surrender to it. Was it possible that Azkaban had changed him, or submitting himself to Voldemort? "I want to see your pleasure," Snape told Lucius, leaning to kiss him.

"Can't you feel how much it pleases me just lying here with you?" The stiff cock prodding against him was real enough, though Snape knew half a dozen potions that could create such a state in a man regardless of his interest. Still, he remembered the flush across Lucius' chest and the way his nipples tightened from long ago, and he was smiling as he reached down to take Lucius' cock in his hand. A loud, shameless groan welcomed his touch. "There has never been anyone else who knew just how to...oh Severus don't stop!"

Snape tried to remind himself of who this man was and what he had done, but his body no longer cared. It had been so very long since he had touched him, and no one else had ever known just what he needed, either. Capturing Lucius' mouth in a passionate kiss, he groped for his wand. "I want to..."

"Yes. Fuck me. Please." Lucius had never spoken to him before in that throaty, desperate voice, and Snape could not recall having seen him so shameless, tossing his head on the bed, releasing sweet scent from his thick mussed hair. "Let me feel _your_ pleasure." As he closed his fingers on the wand, Snape discovered that his heart was pounding, and he fought for control over the rising voice. "I've never forgotten how...you look, like this..."

To silence Lucius, Snape kissed him again before pulling back long enough to cast a lubrication spell. Lucius' fingers stroked up his arm and across his face as he took his cock in his hand, rubbing against Lucius' opening without preparing him with his fingers. "I've never forgotten how you look either." Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Lucius' palm, then began to push slowly inside him -- breathless, unable to wait, unable to hold back a groan.

"Oh _yes_!" The wail of pleasure rang in Snape's ears as Lucius tilted his head back, arching up to meet him and taking him deeper inside with such ease that Snape realized with some astonishment that Lucius must have prepared himself for him. Crying out softly, he shoved his hips forward, burying himself in Lucius' body which rose eagerly up to meet him. "Don't stop! Please!" Trembling a little, Snape tangled his fingers in Lucius' hair, kissing him as he began to thrust harder than was necessary, faster than he intended, but unable to restrain himself. Though the haze of desire he thought he saw Lucius biting his lip, holding back what might have been a tiny smile of triumph, before he let out another ecstatic shout. "Yes, just like that!"

Snape cried out again as well, more loudly, pressing his face against Lucius' neck. They were quick and somewhat brutal from that point, with Lucius thrashing and shuddering under Snape as he clutched at him, while Snape thrust without the distraction of kissing or sucking, focused only on not allowing his thoughts to run away with him and not erupting inside Lucius before he felt him vibrate with a cry and spurt over his belly and chest. The whimper that escaped Snape then was wholly undignified, and he cried out and slammed into him mercilessly for only a few moments before he too came.

Lucius was still clinging to him, breathing through his mouth, with his head pressed against Snape's. They trembled against one another, gasping for breath, and the older wizard let out a loud, satisfied, but somewhat wistful groan. "You were trying to hold back from me, love." The word made Snape close his eyes and swallow, though he knew that Lucius was using it colloquially rather than with meaning. Though he shook his head in denial, Lucius kissed the side of his face and murmured, "You were. I could feel it. Don't you remember how you used to tell me that you were mine?"

Softly, nuzzling his cheek to avoid his eyes, Snape whispered, "I _am_ yours."

"How can you lie to me, like this, while you're still inside me?" Lucius' purr was insistent, and when Snape kissed him, tightening his fingers in Lucius' hair, he felt the unmistakable lightheaded tingling that indicated an attempt to probe his mind. Pulling back, he attempted to collect his thoughts without any obvious occlumency. It would be far better for Lucius to believe that he had penetrated Snape's mind and found no blocks than to guess that his Severus was hiding secrets. But Snape could not pretend to be ignorant of the attempt; Malfoy would not believe such weakness.

"Stop that," he chided.

"Stop...kissing you?" asked the Death-Eater gently, meeting his mouth again and exploring it thoroughly. As Snape groaned against his lips, he felt Lucius tighten around him, keeping him inside, and prodding at his mind again. "Let me in."

"Lucius, please." He fought for an explanation his lover might accept. "I have had these blocks up for so long...it isn't easy for me to let anyone in."

"I know, love. I understand. Let them down, with me." The voice remained low, seductive and sympathetic. "You've just said that you're mine. And I am yours. I want no secrets between us. What have we to keep from one another?"

"I want you. I--I missed you." Snape closed his eyes, holding tightly to those thoughts and feelings, which were, in fact, true.

"But you don't trust me." Those words had been a recurring theme in their relationship and they affected Snape more than he wished to reveal, certainly more than Lucius deserved. Or was that true? Since the first, nearly unforgivable manipulation of his memory, Lucius had never violated him; Snape had followed where he led, but he had never been forced, and when he left, Lucius had protected him; it was perhaps the only reason he was still alive.

"I wouldn't hide anything from you. I never did," he said, resting his head against Lucius' shoulder. "I didn't tell you that I planned to leave because I thought it might endanger you if you knew beforehand and said nothing. I'm sorry. Very sorry."

"Do you know what..._he_ wanted to do to you? Do you have any idea what I went through?" Lucius held him more tightly, shuddering a bit, perhaps for effect; Snape tried to apologize again, but was cut off. "It's all right. It's just as well things happened as they did -- you might have been killed had you been with us during those final attacks. And I always knew that you had not betrayed _me_." The head tilted back, a shrug urged Snape's head from Lucius' shoulder. "You haven't betrayed me, have you, Severus? Do you still love me?"

Swallowing, Snape forced his eyes to meet the other man's, taking in his beauty, his wide clear eyes and wounded, swollen lips. "I never stopped loving you."

"Then why can't I feel it?" Lucius mouth twisted, his eyes turning fierce as a hawk's. "Why won't you let me in?" Concentrating, he made one more obvious, aggressive attempt to penetrate Snape's mind, staring straight at him; Snape stared back, allowing him to do so, holding in his mind the memory of Lucius he so treasured that he had locked it away in an amulet. He could see that Lucius knew that he would not succeed in penetrating more deeply buried thoughts, and leaned up to kiss him with genuine regret, but Lucius flinched from his mouth. "No. You've won. Let it be enough."

"I don't understand."

"I think you do. Why are you in bed with me, Severus? It's obvious that I no longer have the hold over you I once did. Is it just for the pleasure of the act? Or are you playing the whore for Dumbledore, trying to see if you can get into my mind before I get into yours?"

"I'm here because I've never stopped wanting you," Snape insisted, begrudgingly, with all the conviction of one who speaks the truth.

"Yet you didn't even want to touch me in the library. Don't lie to me, I could feel it. Do you have _any_ idea what I've risked for you?"

This was, regrettably, a Malfoy whom Snape recognized only too well -- the lover who for years had manipulated him by any means at his disposal, and he responded with all the frustration of his youth. "No, I've no idea," he snapped, jerking away and reaching for a blanket. "Why should I have suspected, when you never gave me any reason to believe that you would risk anything at all for me? You recruited me, and treated me like a pet, or a toy...like your whore, as you were so fond of telling me."

If he had been expecting to see triumph on Malfoy's features, he was mistaken. Lucius spoke in his most injured tone, very rarely heard -- a voice that revealed he could be wounded. "You weren't much more than a child when we began. I thought you wanted a mentor. Someone to guide you. Someone to be responsible. Do you think I would have let a whore sleep in my bed? And not only my bed; we made love in nearly every room of this house. I put off my marriage because of you. I took you traveling with me. And I brought you to my master -- I spoke for you to him! I treated you..." His voice dropped, and he made a fist, letting his hair fall over his face as he lowered his head. "As if you were mine."

Whether this was sincere or a tactic, Snape could not allow it to affect his words as it affected his feelings. "I was yours -- yours to treat as you wished. Yours to discard." All his old wounds were surfacing, threatening to crack careful defenses, and his only consolation was that he thought the same might be true for Lucius as well. "Where you were concerned, the only thing of which I was certain was that I could destroy everything by doing the wrong thing. You would send me home without warning, sometimes immediately after you'd fucked me. You wouldn't contact me for days, then expect me to be where you wanted me on a moment's notice. You became angry with me if I gave in to your demands too quickly, or if I resisted for too long."

"And you became just as irritable if I failed to understand your needs. Did you ever give in to anything without an argument? Did you respect me when you thought me submissive to our Lord or to anyone else? Didn't you think I feared that you would simply leave? I had no means to make you stay, only bribes -- things that my family's money could buy. You were the only one I ever let in...I let you fuck me. I let you mark me. Do you think anyone else ever got that close? My wife? My associates?"

Though Snape didn't dare try to penetrate Lucius' thoughts, after all these years he could read Lucius fairly well, and Lucius looked as if he believed his own words. "I don't know how you could think that I would ever willingly have let you go," he was continuing. "When you did leave, when it became apparent to all of us that you weren't coming back...I allowed it. I insisted to our master that of course you were still loyal and it was all part of a plan, though I doubted you, and I forced myself not to interfere. I can't keep it up forever -- you may be able to block me, but do you think you can block him, now that his strength is returning? Look at your arm, Severus!"

Snape did not need to look at his arm to feel the outlines of the Dark Mark, which seemed sharper than when he had arrived at the mansion. He no longer knew whether he could block Lucius from another attempt to invade his mind, and realized as well that he had never had occasion to learn whether he might be stronger than Lucius. Though he turned his face away, he could not disguise a shiver when Lucius murmured, "Tell me that when I summon you, you will be at my side."

"If you desire my presence, I will come."

"I don't mean dinner invitations. I mean..._when_ I summon you, you _will be_ at my side." The meaning was perfectly clear. "Listen to me, Severus. _He_ will return, with all his strength, very soon. There will be nothing you can do to protect yourself from him -- nor from me, if he chooses to use me as the instrument of his vengeance. Dumbledore will not be able to save you." Snape could feel himself nodding; the only surprise in these words was that Malfoy would warn him in such a manner. "And if you fail us again, you may be certain he will kill you. Worse than kill you. I would not dare to interfere. So I cannot allow you to fail us."

For a moment Snape closed his eyes, blocking out the man and the grand room with all its memories. "I'm not certain why it is that you want me at your side. It would seem to be dangerous for you."

"It would be far more dangerous otherwise. I would prefer that you came willingly, but if it is the only way, I will do whatever is necessary to see that you _are_ with me. If we were truly opposed... Could you kill me, Severus?"

For years now Snape had asked himself that question. There had been a time when he was certain the answer was yes, when he first left Voldemort's service and expected that he might die for it; Malfoy, he had been certain, would be punished for his recruit's betrayal, and would therefore have been the obvious choice to send to attack Snape. But the attack had never come, and after the Dark Lord was vanquished by a child, they had established a cool if distant respect on the occasions when they found themselves in proximity. Snape realized later that Lucius must have believed Voldemort had let him go for his own purposes, and moreover, that he could summon Snape back whenever he wished.

Snape was certain that he could kill any other Death-Eater: he could have killed Bellatrix Lestrange, for instance, without any misgivings, had he been at the Ministry on the night of Black's death, even though it would have earned him the enmity of all of Voldemort's supporters. But when he recalled the scene described by Potter, the boy crawling through rows of prophecies with Malfoy pursuing -- and how could Dumbledore have placed such importance on the cryptic words of a seer? -- it was almost inconceivable that his companion could be the same man.

Could he kill him, could he destroy Lucius Malfoy, only to save the despised son of James Potter? "I don't know," he answered Lucius in perfect honesty. "I would prefer not to learn. Could you kill _me_?"

Lucius' fingers closed around Snape's wrist. His only reply was, "We must be certain that we never meet on opposite sides of the struggle." Though Snape gave him a brief nod, he was already trying to pull his hand back; Lucius had grasped the arm that bore the Dark Mark, and the proximity of his fingers caused it to burn. "You must come back to me before the end," his lover added, voice growing louder, more assured. "We'll be together as you always wanted. Wouldn't you like that, Severus? Look at me. Touch my thoughts, if you wish -- I've nothing to hide from you. You could have all of me, if only you would return."

Urgently Snape tugged his hand free, stroking Lucius' hair to disguise the gesture. "I think that it is you who wants all of me."

"Have you not noticed that I am the one who keeps coming back? Though you are only superficially polite when we see one another at Hogwarts and Ministry functions." Snape recalled a fine autumn afternoon at Malfoy's side watching Quidditch, when he had caught himself smiling at the simple pleasure...he pushed the memory aside. "I have the heir I was expected to sire; my obligations to my wife are through. And I think you suffer, isolated at that school with its mudbloods and halfwits. I would be here for you whenever you wished, if you would let me."

Snape's fingers still combed through Lucius' hair, an activity that had always given both of them pleasure. Now Lucius' hand rose to cover Snape's, and the older wizard smiled wistfully. "You touch me as if you have not forgotten," he pointed out. "I always meant to cut a lock off and send it to you, to remind you. Didn't I give you a locket, once?"

"Not that would hold hair. You gave me an amulet -- a memory charm."

"That's right. And do you still have it?" At Snape's nod, the smile grew broader. "I didn't assume that you'd kept any reminders. I saved absurd things: A broken saucer. The old tie you left in my closet when I gave you a new one to wear out to dinner one evening."

Rising, Snape went over to his robes and reached into the hidden pocket. He could think of no better way to prove his loyalty to Malfoy than to show him the memory he had kept hidden away for all this time. "I kept a scarf you gave me, Slytherin colors," he admitted as he retrieved the amulet. "And a few photographs. There is one that I like in particular of you, in profile, looking out at the Mississippi River. It was on the same trip that you bought this for me."

"We should go back to America," smiled Lucius. "Would you travel with me? I will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"To New Orleans?" Snape handed him the amulet. "Those were the happiest days of my life, Lucius. I have never forgotten."

Lucius was smiling as he opened the amulet, and Snape watched his face as the memory inside swept over him. Though the expression was unquestionably blissful as Lucius experienced the moment captured in the charm, it was replaced after a moment with very deep shock and something akin to pain. Snape would have reached for him, but Lucius' stare unnerved him. The older wizard's eyes were bright and piercing, filled with an understanding they had lacked moments before, and he rubbed at the Dark Mark on his arm with unexpected vehemence.

Perhaps, Snape thought, some of the complications of his own youthful passion for Lucius were embedded in the charm more deeply than he had realized; he had always associated that love with the possibility of its loss. "Are you all right?" he asked Lucius, who continued to stare at him as if he was a stranger before nodding slowly. Snape held out his hand for the amulet, but Lucius turned from him, rising to walk across the room. He opened the charm again, and from a distance Snape watched the same astonishment take hold: first the delight of the memory itself, then dawning surprise and the unmistakable flinch.

Carefully Lucius shut the amulet, crossed back to the bed and closed Snape's fingers around it, his expression hardening. "Listen to me," he said, calm but fierce. "The next time you open this charm, you are going to remember every word spoken this night. When your memory is intact, you will recall what I have told you and know that I did not lie. You must come back to me before our master returns, because if you are not at my side, everything you have ever loved will be destroyed. I will destroy it myself. There isn't much time left. Remember _that_, Severus."

The words, spoken almost like an incantation, left Snape puzzled and unnerved, but before he could ask what they meant, Lucius turned away and reached for his robes. They dressed silently, collecting their wands and cleaning themselves; Snape slipped the amulet back into the hidden pocket, but Lucius still would not meet his gaze.

By the time he was ready to leave, they had returned very nearly to the formal distance with which they greeted one another at Hogwarts functions. When he glanced at Lucius' tightly pressed lips, Snape thought the other man must have been in pain, but there was triumph in his stance as well, back straight beneath the elegant clothing and head held high in a bitter display of power.

"Remember," Lucius reminded Snape again just before he left. He had expected another effort to infiltrate his mind, to seek information about Dumbledore and the Order or at the very least for reassurance of his loyalty, and it troubled him when the attempt did not come. Had his occlumency failed him without his even noticing? Lucius' behavior had become more cold and aloof than ever, but that victorious tilt to his chin was tempered by a seething, suffocating darkness clouding his eyes. The look reminded Snape of the Dark Mark -- an inescapable burning ache that reminded him of past mistakes. He made his farewells as quickly as he dared.

Back at Hogwarts, Snape went at once to his office, troubled by a sense of foreboding. The Pensieve sat on his desk, holding memories he knew for certain that he had kept safe. For all the intensity of Malfoy's final threats, Snape did not believe that anything vital had been given away, and he smiled as he opened his pockets to withdraw his wand, then the hidden charm. Strange how much power his own recollection had held over Lucius, he thought and opened the amulet, choosing to allow himself the indulgence in his happiest memory of the only man he had ever loved, now that he knew he could face him.

The face that he saw before him was not Lucius Malfoy's, but Remus Lupin's. Before Snape could even acknowledge his surprise, he was overwhelmed by a feeling so strong that for a moment he forgot Malfoy and the Death-Eaters and Voldemort. The weight he had carried in his chest all evening vanished, the pain in his arm dissipated. The emotions he felt for Lucius, which he had called "love" for want of a better term, seemed wan and weak by comparison.

The memory had faded long before Snape's heart had stopped pounding. He wondered how Malfoy had managed to keep his composure, experiencing these feelings and the astonishing freedom from the Dark Mark that accompanied them, then having to face Snape, finding the words to try to summon him back in the face of such obvious betrayal.

Snape knew that he was going to be ill, but before he could allow himself that luxury, he had to restore his memories from the Pensieve. One by one he replaced them, filling his thoughts with Lupin, yet Malfoy had spoken truly: not a word, not a moment of his more recent experiences could be displaced, neither the words of love nor the threats that accompanied them. For all of his defenses, Snape had given himself over to his enemy, and in doing so he had compromised the only thing that might have saved him.


	11. Monstrous

When the knock startled Remus from the map he was making, he looked up with a smile. He had not expected to see Severus until the weekend, but urgent business sometimes brought the potions master to Grimmauld Place, and then he always managed to find a few hours for them to spend together even if he had essays to mark and a dormitory of unruly Slytherins to oversee.

"It's not locked," called Remus, hastily putting the map on the table and whispering "mischief managed." Privately he noted that he needed to think of a new phrase before allowing anyone else in the Order to see his handiwork. To his surprise, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the room. The headmaster of Hogwarts smiled in greeting, but his shoulders were hunched.

A cold terror formed in Remus' belly -- _something must have happened to Severus, please let him be safe_. He found his own feet frozen, making him incapable of the hospitality he knew he should offer. "Headmaster," he stammered. "What a surprise. Please, come sit down."

Dumbledore was glancing around, peering at the books on shelves and the candy in the cabinet, when Remus' expression seemed to give him pause. With widening eyes he waved Remus back down to the sofa. "Please don't get up. I found myself in the mood for a cup of hot chocolate, and I thought that perhaps you would like one as well."

Greatly relieved, Remus returned the smile. "I don't think I have ever refused a cup of hot chocolate." With his wand he brought a pot and cups flying across the room to the table, but before he could fetch the kettle from the fireplace, Dumbledore had pulled a tiny phial from his pocket and dropped a minute amount of its contents into the pot, which instantly filled with bubbling cocoa.

"Would you like marshmallows?" No sooner had Remus nodded than they appeared, floating on top of the sweet-smelling liquid that was already making his mouth water. Sitting on the sofa, Dumbledore filled one of the cups and passed it over to Remus, though when his own cup filled, the marshmallows remained behind. "I find that lately they stick in my teeth," he lamented.

Summoning a spoon, Remus dunked one of the marshmallows and scooped it up with some of the swirling liquid so that he could blow on it. "I like to eat them first," he laughed, a bit embarrassed at the headmaster's scrutiny. "Severus finds it rather juvenile."

Dumbledore gazed into his cup as if he expected to read the bubbles the way one might read tea leaves. "Severus has never been one to indulge himself," he observed. "Still, he has seemed far more content than I recall seeing him in all these many years." Remus blushed at the implication, but Dumbledore was not bashful; he winked, glancing up for a moment with one open eye, before he went back to studying his drink. "This is a great consolation -- I must remember to keep a supply of chocolate on hand. Did Severus inform you that he might be away on Order business?" When Remus nodded again, the older wizard's expression changed. "I'm afraid I may have asked him to take on a responsibility that he should have been spared."

Despite the hot chocolate, the cold fear that had seized Remus a few minutes earlier returned. "Severus knows what's at stake for the Order," he recited, wishing the words sounded less automatic. "We've all been kept very busy this month. Severus is holding up perfectly well."

Nodding, Dumbledore took a sip of his hot chocolate. "You're looking much stronger as well," he noted. "Is it only an appearance, or are you feeling stronger?" This was not a query likely to lead to a pleasant conclusion, but Remus forced himself to nod. "I'm very glad to hear it. And I'm glad to see that you and Severus have been able to put aside your past differences so completely, as he and Sirius were never able to do. I recall the wording of your letter of resignation; I don't believe you left Hogwarts entirely of your own choosing."

"No, I didn't. But I understood his concern. I didn't take the potion; I could have killed a student. The responsibility was my own."

Dumbledore nodded, but his eyes were hooded, troubled. "When I spoke to young Mr. Potter last spring after the terrible events at the Ministry of Magic, he seemed determined to believe that Professor Snape was entirely to blame for Sirius' death."

These pointed remarks were quite unlike Dumbledore. Was he trying to remind Remus that he and Severus had been adversaries for much longer than they had been lovers, to ease some loss? Anger flared briefly in Remus' voice as he replied, "A lot of things should have happened differently last spring."

"Yes." The headmaster's voice was heavy with regret, and he paused before continuing. "I am afraid _that_ responsibility must fall upon myself." Remus shook his head, on the verge of saying, as he had said to Severus, that they should have been past any question of blame, but Dumbledore cut him off. "I was not speaking only of the past. Whatever Severus has done, it has been in an effort to follow my directives. He will tell you that he chooses freely, and willingly, for the good of the Order, and he may even believe it. Perhaps if I were ignorant of the cost to him, I might believe it as well. There is too much at stake for me to interfere, and I dare not even question him about the details, but I daresay he does not find them pleasant."

Malfoy -- Dumbledore was speaking of Malfoy, realized Remus, envisioning with sickening clarity where Severus must have been and what he must have done. He remembered Severus' warnings to him and his own promise that no matter what happened, it would change nothing between them. But privately, the images clawed at his mind: Lucius Malfoy, his fellow Slytherin's first lover, who had known Snape intimately for years, and who had the dark magic of the Dark Lord to summon as well as his private hold on Severus. There was no question of infidelity to forgive; Severus did not go to Malfoy of his own choosing, had little choice in the deception. And if he voluntarily returned to a scarred and battered werewolf after a night with a preternaturally beautiful, wealthy man who could offer him the world, Remus could only believe that Severus must truly want him.

"I know he doesn't find them pleasant," Remus said to the headmaster. "Though he doesn't like to talk about it. I think that he's afraid I'll judge him, or I'll leave him, if he admits too much." When Dumbledore frowned as if his worst fears had just been confirmed, Remus picked up the teapot, which felt warm and solid in his hand, refilling both his own mug and the elder wizard's. "Severus warned me that I would not want to know everything about him. I think he feels ashamed, not so much of his present activities, but of the choices he made in the past that have brought him to them. I'm not certain there's much I can do but stay here until he understands that I am not going to leave."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of the hot chocolate in a feeble attempt to disguise a sigh of relief. When he looked at Remus, however, it was with sorrow in his eyes, and Remus thought that although the headmaster usually seemed ageless, his face now looked old and tired. "It must have been terribly difficult for you with Sirius. I have seen what exposure to dementors can do -- even after only brief contact, there can be a loss of joy in life and an expectation of unhappiness in the future. Sirius was wrongfully imprisoned for more than ten years. I cannot imagine the pain he carried with him from Azkaban."

Within this very room, Sirius had paced like a caged animal, lashing out at Remus, cursing Dumbledore...it had been terribly difficult, terribly painful to watch. "I'm afraid you have had to take on much of the unhappiness of those close to you," the headmaster added, watching him with a concerned, unhappy expression. "Sometimes it is an unfortunate price of being a survivor, and having to be the strong one. Apart from Molly Weasley, you may be the only one of us who has managed to keep Harry Potter's trust."

"I don't think Harry's very happy with me right now," admitted Remus, managing a faint grin; he could not imagine telling the headmaster about the scene with Harry in the astronomy tower and the name-calling and bitterness that had preceded the boy's grudging acceptance. "I may have told him more about myself and his godfather than he wished to know."

"I have observed that Harry becomes much more upset over the things he is _not_ told than the things he is," Dumbledore said serenely. "He may not have liked what you had to say, but he will respect you for having told him. Small blessings may be all we have, but we do have many of them." Remus smiled in agreement, but the peacefulness was already fading from Dumbledore's expression. "I must tell you, Remus, that it may be difficult for Severus to see you now. We've both seen how he can lash out when he's been injured, and not always at the person responsible."

"I know." Lupin nodded. "We talked about that. I know he may need some time."

"Is that what he told you?" Slowly shaking his head, Dumbledore leaned forward. "I am wary of interfering, but I think that perhaps you should not allow too much time to pass." He sighed. "You and I _are_ overdue for a cup of hot chocolate and a chat, but I cannot pretend that was my only reason for coming here. Severus asked me to warn you. He believes that he has placed you in danger from Lucius Malfoy."

"Severus has been telling me almost from the start that our relationship puts me in danger."

"I'm afraid that at the present time he may be right. You know what kind of a man Lucius is, even if Severus does not always choose to see it. Lucius' belief in Severus' loyalty has given the Order a chance to learn of the Death-Eaters' plans, but I often ask myself whether it is fair to Severus. I will not interfere, because it is his own choice to go, but if he came to me with this warning then he must believe the threat to be quite serious."

But why had Severus not warned Remus himself? As a rule, the potions master tried at all costs to avoid involving the headmaster in any matter where it was not essential, whether it was a matter of student discipline at Hogwarts or a threat that might affect the entire wizarding world. For Snape to have gone to Dumbledore over a matter so personal, he must have found himself truly unable to face his lover. "I should go and see him at Hogwarts," Remus said, musing aloud, though Dumbledore nodded as soon as the words were out. "Before any more time passes, because he will be vulnerable too."

"I think it might be wise. And it might be safest if we traveled together." Without even speaking a spell, Dumbledore waved his hand and the hot chocolate disappeared, the cups cleaned themselves and all the items flew back to their places on shelves as if they had never been used. "If it's all right with you, I would like to leave as soon as possible. I must agree that this threat is not only to you." Remus would have fetched his cardigan at once, but the headmaster smiled at him. "Why don't I meet you in the library in ten minutes."

"The library then." As Remus attempted to smile back, Dumbledore walked serenely to the door and let himself out of the room. Remus opened a drawer to find a box of muggle chocolates, checked to make certain that he had his wand and scribbled a quick note for Moody to tell him of his progress in charting the latest raids. A moment later he was out the door, heading to the library and from there to see Severus.

The halls of Hogwarts were nearly deserted when Remus left Dumbledore's office by way of the magical staircase, for the students were meant to be at dinner. Still, he might have guessed that he would run into a Gryffindor Prefect and student known for bending the rules on occasion. "Professor Lupin!" Hermione Granger called in plain delight, hurrying toward him down the hall, while behind her came Harry Potter, looking a bit apprehensive as well as surprised. "I hope everything's all right?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine, I've just come for a visit." He hesitated, unsure whether a further explanation was called for; Harry would certainly suspect that he had come to see Severus, but he was uncertain what Hermione might believe until she blushed faintly, averted her eyes and began to back away just as quickly as she had approached. So Harry _had_ told her, Remus thought wryly, or she had guessed on her own, as Severus had thought she might. He gave her a warm smile and would have spoken when Harry interrupted his thoughts.

"We were on the way to the library. Snape's gone mad -- he expects us to do _eight_ rolls of parchment on binding potions." Glumly Hermione nodded to confirm this. Glancing back at Harry, who was biting his lip, Remus had the sense that his anxiety was not simple displeasure that his surrogate godfather planned a liaison with a disliked teacher. "He's been off his head this week. He gave _Malfoy_ detention for spilling a little fixative powder, and made him serve it helping Filch disinfect the bathrooms." There was a flicker of glee on Harry's face for an instant before he grew serious. "_Is_ everything all right?"

Remus was about to smile brightly when he remembered Dumbledore's words about Harry being far less resentful of being told bad news than believing that it was being hidden from him. "I'm not certain," he admitted with a sigh. "But, Harry, it has nothing to do with you, and there is nothing you can do about it, so please don't worry yourself, all right?"

"Whenever anything's the matter around here, it always seems to lead back to me," Harry said darkly. Remus would have smiled at the self-importance of the words had they not been so heartfelt.

"In this case I'm afraid that the problem stems from something that began well before you were born, and did not originate with Voldemort. But it's all going to work itself out. The best thing you can do for Professor Snape and for yourself is to write a truly impressive essay on binding potions."

Remus heard Snape's name being muttered again and again as he made his way toward the dungeon. "...gave the whole Hufflepuff team detention...heard he absolutely tortured the third years...supposedly told off Flitwick because we didn't know any fire-quenching charms..." It had not been unusual to hear students complaining about their potions teacher during his own time teaching at Hogwarts, he recalled with a ghost of a smile, but things were different now, and it seemed quite apparent to him that his lover must be suffering.

He expected to find Severus in his office, where the professor often spent the evenings reading or marking essays, but the door was locked. For a moment he tried to think where else Severus might have gone. Then, suspicious, he tried the door again and discovered that in addition to an ordinary lock it had been sealed with several charms. Knocking cautiously, he called out, "Severus?"

There was a seemingly endless pause, during which Remus was quite certain that Severus would ignore him. He could not afford to make any sort of racket shouting for him, and was on the verge of finding a quill to slip a note beneath the door when the familiar voice -- heavy with deliberate irritation that did not quite disguise its apprehension -- came from the other side of the heavy frame. "Why are you here, Lupin? I'm not well."

The initial pleasure at being acknowledged faded almost immediately when it became apparent that Severus still did not intend to open the door. "I came to see you," Remus called in to him. "I received your warning, and I was concerned. Let me in; I'll make you tea and help you with your lessons."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You should return home; you'll be safer there."

The coldness in the tone made Remus flinch, and he could not repress a pang of fear that perhaps being with Malfoy had changed things between them after all. Death-Eater though he might have been, Lucius' charisma was undeniable, and Severus' feelings for him went back many long years. "Open the door," demanded Remus, changing tactics. "Please, Severus. I need to see you."

No response but silence greeted him for so long that Remus was considering drastic action -- obliterating the locking charms, or banging on the door loudly enough to attract attention -- when the door swung partway open. Cautiously Remus pushed it wide enough to step through, looking around for Severus, but he was neither at his desk nor by his shelves. Instead he sat hunched on the floor near the fireplace, not even looking in Remus' direction.

"Thank you," said Remus, walking over to his lover and sitting across from him. "Tell me what I can get you. Tea? Chocolate?" Reaching into his pocket, he held some out, but Severus shook his head. "Did you have dinner?"

"I'm fine," Severus snapped in his most annoyed tone. "And you sound exactly like Mrs. Weasley." The remark might have been calculated to sting but it made Remus smile; deep down, he was certain, Severus was fond of Molly and had a good deal of respect for her as well. Though the potions master kept glowering for another several seconds, his shoulders were already sagging in defeat, and he broke eye contact, staring into the fire.

"If I can't get you anything, may I just sit here with you?" Remus took silence as assent, and sat quietly at Severus' side. "I've been worried about you. I wish there had been something I could have done."

"It would have been safer if you had stayed away." The words sounded automatic, like something recited as much for Severus' own benefit as for Remus', but they were clearly not easy for him to say. "I was careless. I thought I had removed all avenues of risk, which was both arrogant and foolish. Now Malfoy knows that you and I have been lovers, and that I have associated you with disloyalty to the Dark Lord."

"Don't speak in the past tense. And I'm not sure I understand what you mean by that last."

"He knows..." Severus' words came with difficulty. "That when I touch you, sometimes, I cannot feel the Dark Mark. So he knows that..." His voice had dropped so low that Remus could barely hear his muttered conclusion. "I love you."

"Oh. Severus." Only the tense, shamed posture of his lover kept Remus from throwing his arms around him, kissing him, possibly weeping, Yet he had to do something, so he settled for grabbing Severus' hand, squeezing it tightly. "If Malfoy's knowing has put you or the Order at risk, then I am truly sorry. But I'm not afraid of him. I _want_ him to know that I love you and I will not allow you to be hurt." Severus was trying to jerk his hand free, but Remus wouldn't let him. "I'm not going to stay away."

"Please don't touch me." The voice was anguished, the face turned away, recoiling like the hand that slipped from Remus' clasp. "I'm unclean."

"Of course you aren't!" But Severus had pulled his legs up a little, shivering, and wrapped his arms around them as if he were cold. "Please, love, you're going to catch a chill. Let me keep you warm..."

"Lupin. You don't know the things I've done."

"Whatever happened between you and Malfoy, I accept it. I don't need to know specifics but if you want to tell me, I'll accept that too. I had thought you understood that when we talked about it, before. You aren't unclean, and you've done nothing unforgivable."

"You say that because you haven't any idea what you're talking about." The words were snarled in the tone Severus used when he was at his most defensive. "I don't mean Malfoy. I was speaking of the Death-Eaters, years ago. If you had any idea of the things I did...I was a monster."

"Like a creature of the night who would have attacked and killed you when you were still a child?" Remus tried to keep his voice light, but Severus stared at him. "I know how long it took, but you did forgive me for it. And now you have to forgive yourself."

Silence followed for so long that Remus feared Severus might refuse to speak any further and would ask him to leave. Yet just as he thought he could not remain still any longer, clammy fingers closed around his own. "After Black's escape, I wanted so badly to believe that you were involved," Snape murmured. "And when he returned, I was so certain that you were colluding with him...not just that he must have been the criminal we had believed him to be, but that _you_ must have been guilty of some crime. I believe I must have allowed my loathing of the wolf to stay with me for all these years because otherwise I would have had to remember what I had done -- things I did, things I chose. If there is a monster here, you are not he." His voice strangled, and Remus let out a shuddering breath, clutching his hand.

"Stop. Please." Helplessly he let his arms go around Severus' body, less to offer comfort as to keep himself from bursting into tears. "I understand, and always understood, that such things would be in your past. You have nothing to justify to me."

Severus winced, shaking with the effort of holding still, but he did not pull away. "You shouldn't touch me. You shouldn't want to touch me," he whispered. Resting his head against Severus' shoulder, Remus shushed him until Severus fell quiet once more. Again they sat in silence, yet this time there was a sense of comfort as they gradually pressed closer together. "I want," began Severus, and trembled again.

"Anything."

"I want to stay with you." He caught his breath as if he had planned to continue but was afraid of what came next. Remus felt a thrill rush through him, wondering whether the next word might be _tonight_ or _forever_, when his lover surprised him even more: "I want to stay when you transform."

"Severus?" Remus lifted his head from his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Then Snape hesitated again. "Unless, of course, you would rather that I did not. I know how the potion works, in theory, but if it is painful for you to have a human so close, if you would rather that I remain away..."

"No -- I just want you to be sure that's what you really want to do." Taking a deep breath to quell his trembling, Remus tried to concentrate on the factual information for him. "It's not painful to be near a human. The urge to hunt is completely suppressed. But the potion works like a powerful sedative. I sleep most of the time, and when I am awake, I'm sluggish. I've never tried to wander as a wolf when I take the potion because I'm not certain I could defend myself. Only a deadly threat can bring me fully conscious."

"That is what concerns me." Again, uncharacteristically, Severus paused. "Will the wolf be able to smell the Dark Mark on me?"

"I honestly couldn't say. But I don't believe I would be prone to attack you. Things are very basic when I'm a wolf. There's no good or evil. Instead there's safety and danger and hunger and comfort and fear."

"And there's no part of you that feels betrayed by me, that might see me as a threat?" Remus shook his head, but Severus remained tense against him. "How can you not sometimes despise me for what I've done? I despise myself for it."

"Because I love you." Severus' arms closed around him so tightly that for a moment Remus had trouble breathing, let alone speaking. "I don't want you to despise yourself, and I don't want you to be afraid for me. Nor of me."

"I am not afraid of you. And I was wrong to be afraid of Malfoy. If he threatens you I will kill him with my bare hands." The words were spoken with shocking vehemence. "And if I am fated to be killed by someone I have loved..." Severus paused. "I would rather it be you. Even as the wolf."

Again Remus found that he had difficulty answering, though this time it was because his throat had closed over. He gripped Severus around the waist, and they sat holding one another. Finally Severus asked in a cautious voice, "With the wolfsbane, do you sleep the entire time? On the bed? Do you remember, afterward?"

"Sometimes on the bed, or curled on the sofa, or on a blanket in front of the hearth. It depends how warm the room is. I can't build up the fire or open a window. There isn't much else to do but sleep -- with the wolfsbane I can remember impressions, whether I was unhappy or afraid, but if you spoke to me about the details of your work, I'd recall none of them." Remus thought Severus looked uneasy, and added, "If you want to think about it, and if you decide you'd rather not, I will certainly understand."

"My only memory of you in that form is not one that I cherish." Severus set his jaw. "I believe it would make me stronger if it could be supplanted."

"Well then...I'll have to be very careful not to start licking myself in front of you." The astonishment on Severus' face very nearly made Remus snicker; instead he smiled as sweetly as he could. "You must understand that when I take the potion, I'm just an oversized wolf. I have ears to scratch, a tail to chase..." For a moment Professor Snape gave Remus the look he turned upon students caught playing a prank. Then, abruptly, he covered his mouth and ducked his head, hiding what Remus was certain was uncontrolled mirth. With another sweet smile, he added, "Chasing one's tail is very tiring work."

"You are making this up." Severus shoved him down and hid his face against his shoulder, but Remus could feel that he was shaking with laughter. "_Stop_ it."

"Just please don't make me talk about the bum-licking." Alongside him, Severus snorted violently. "It's one thing to do it to someone you care about. But doing it to yourself, this compulsion...it feels wrong down there, you start licking, then all of a sudden you can't stop, and five minutes later you're..._Severus_!" His lover had in desperation begun to tickle him, still shuddering with the closest thing to the giggles of which Remus imagined he was capable. "Stop! Please!"

Minutes later, after Severus finally allowed Remus to uncurl from a twitching ball that yelped and batted away tickling hands, they lay exhausted on the carpet together, fingers loosely entwined. "Did you really assign the sixth years eight rolls of parchments?" Remus asked with another soft laugh.

"How do you know about that?"

"I bumped into Harry in the corridor on the way here. In his own way, I think he's worried about you, although his concern was phrased as fear about his own situation."

"That would be just like Potter, to assume that everyone else's unhappiness revolved around himself." The familiar criticism was spoken without any of the usual venom; Severus' head lolled against Remus' shoulder, entirely relaxed. Then it lifted. "Lupin. Everything Voldemort has done since his return _has_ focused on defeating The Boy Who Lived."

The words took a moment to penetrate Remus' half-drowsing mind. "What are you saying?"

"Perhaps, in my own self-absorption, I have failed to see the larger picture." Rubbing a hand over his face, Severus sat up. "Weren't you working on a map? A chart of the most recent raids?"

"I have it right here." Pulling himself upright, Remus reached into the pocket where he had placed it along with his wand. They both watched as he uncharmed the parchment to make the map visible. "I'm not entirely certain whether there's a pattern, but the Death-Eaters seem to be drawing closer to a particular central location. Of course it's difficult to say whether this is a coincidence. I must say that their actions over the past few years have been far from subtle."

Stabbing a finger near the center of the marks, Severus frowned. "This could be Hogwarts. Or Hogsmeade. One would expect them to realize that if they attempt to approach Potter again, Dumbledore could have him sent to a wizarding school in Asia or Australia. But they're not fools -- they very nearly succeeded at the Ministry." He paused, concentrating. "Malfoy may have his own agenda where I am concerned, but he is still a servant of the Dark Lord. He has been working in one fashion or another for him during all the years he and I were close. His work at the Ministry, even his interest in voodoo..." Suddenly Severus whirled on Remus. "What happened to the Potters' things, after their deaths?"

"I don't understand."

"Their belongings. The headmaster had James Potter's invisibility cloak, which he passed on to Harry. You had some photographs, as I recall. Where did Potter's baby clothes go? Were they given to the relatives who raised him? I haven't seen friends from the Order coming forth with remembrances for Harry, things that had belonged to his parents. Were they all destroyed?"

Then Remus did understand. "You think Voldemort might want to find something of Harry's to perform some kind of sympathetic magic? A curse in which damage to the object will cause damage to its onetime owner?"

"Sympathetic magic was always an interest of Malfoy's. Lupin, you were close to the Potters -- would you recognize something that had been in their home if you saw it, in a museum for instance?"

"I'm not entirely certain." Remus strained to recall anything that might have been relevant from the museum he and Severus had visited together, where they had shared their first, unplanned kiss. "If what you suspect is correct, it could be anything -- a standard baby rattle, a nondescript blanket, a string of teething beads."

"Or a memory." Severus walked over to his desk and came back holding a small amulet in his hand. "Do you know what this is?"

"A memory locket, if I'm not mistaken." It was a particularly lovely one -- a small gold amulet with the winged horse Pegasus etched on the front. "That's very beautiful, Severus..."

"Malfoy gave it to me years ago," interrupted Snape impatiently. "I may have put your life in danger by showing it to him recently, at a time when I did not remember its contents because I had left my memories of you here in the Pensieve where I thought they would be safe. I believed it was Malfoy's own face that he would see, not yours. If someone had a memory of Potter from when he was an infant, before his mother's death and his own encounter with the Dark Lord, it might give Voldemort power over him."

"The only amulets I recall from the museum were much, much older than this one." Carefully Remus stroked his fingers over the engraved silver wings of the charm and heard Severus catch his breath. "We should go back and investigate to be certain, but I wonder whether you weren't closer to the mark in the first place. There are undoubtedly physical items that belonged to James and Lily which are now out in the world, perhaps even among Muggles. In Voldemort's hands I imagine they could be used as weapons."

"Or in Malfoy's." The potions master's lips had set in a tight, furious line. "I may be able to learn what they are planning. If I see him again." His eyes closed as if he were steeling himself for something unpleasant.

"Oh, Severus. Is there no other way? What can I do?"

Severus touched his own arm, where the Dark Mark lay visible but inert. "I will wait," he said, "until after the full moon. This time I will go to Malfoy with all my memories. He was unable to read anything from me that I did not choose to show him, and I am stronger now than I was."

"Will you let me go with you?"

"Absolutely not." Then Severus' expression softened. "But you are here now, so let us not waste this night."

The improvement in Professor Snape's mood was noted by his students when they turned in their binding potions essays, many of which were exceptional for those below NEWT level. It was also noted by Dumbledore, who delivered to Remus a large quantity of instant hot chocolate and an offer of any support he might be able to provide. Remus was tempted to tell the headmaster of Severus' suspicions about the Death-Eaters' plans, but decided that it was Severus' place to do so, not his own. He worked on his chart in the days leading up to the full moon, reflecting that his youthful experience plotting the Marauders' Map made him peculiarly qualified for this sort of work. Perhaps, he thought, he should point out to Severus that the most disobedient students sometimes became more creative wizards and witches.

As was usual, Severus brought him his potion and watched him swallow it, but unlike any previous month he then remained in Lupin's room at Grimmauld Place, having asked McGonagall quite without explanation to see that another teacher covered his classes. Remus always dreaded the moment of transformation even under the influence of wolfsbane, but despite the comfort of having his lover beside him, he was equally terrified that in such close proximity, Severus would be repulsed.

"Shall I tell you what I did to earn this Mark?" Severus asked quietly in the minutes before the moon rose. "The only proof of loyalty that the Dark Lord would accept was murder. We each had to kill for him. My assignment was a rather unpleasant wizard who had at one time provided Voldemort with deadly herbs, but had been found out by the Ministry and begun to identify those for whom he provided his wares..."

He told the story in a calm, detached tone, as if he were describing some other man than himself, but even through the soporific effect of the potion Remus could feel him shaking, and he was in his arms when the moon broke the horizon. Severus kept his eyes shut as Remus began to twist and transform, but he did not let go of him until the alteration was complete. Nor did Severus leave throughout the long night, resting silently beside him until the moon set and the excruciating pain of becoming human again wiped the heavy curtain of the potion from Remus' mind.

"Where does it hurt?" Severus asked, getting a blanket and pulling it over them both. With his wand he made the fire burn higher while his arms went around Remus, knowing from previous months that heat helped to ease the pain. When Remus let out a soft sigh, he asked, "How much do you remember?"

"I remember being happy." Remus managed a small smile. "I knew there was someone with me -- someone for whom I cared very much, and hoped that maybe he would scratch my ears." Severus snickered softly. "You appeared to be quite deeply asleep, though dreaming. You whined, and you scratched, but you did not chase your tail, nor did you lick yourself. I was slightly disappointed."

"And...you weren't afraid?"

"I will be honest with you. It was difficult at first not to get up and flee. I stayed because I realized I would rather be with you as a wolf than with any of the Death-Eaters." To Remus' great embarrassment his stomach chose that moment to rumble, yet Severus only gave him a wry smile. "Would you like me to bring you some food?"

"If you don't mind assisting me, I'd like to go downstairs. I need to stretch my legs." It was a bit uncomfortable having his lover help him dress and comb his hair, but he reflected that it was probably far more uncomfortable for someone as private as Severus to have to help him down the stairs, receiving solicitous looks from Kingsley and Tonks and outright indulgence from Molly Weasley, who promptly offered to make them both breakfast though everyone else had eaten long before. Snape's glower had made the others flee the kitchen by the time the eggs had finished frying. "You're very good at that, you know. Scaring away our acquaintances..." Remus smiled at him across the table.

"I do have a reputation to maintain." They both heard Molly choke back a laugh before she turned and gave Severus an approving smile. "I'll see whether there are sausages."

"Sit, I'll get them," ordered Molly just as Kingsley came back in for more coffee. She waved Severus down again when Remus mentioned that he'd like hot chocolate, winking and smiling at him. "Moody left this for you," she said, handing Snape a rolled and sealed parchment, refusing his grudging thanks for it and for breakfast: "It was a community effort, and the sausages were sent over from Hogwarts. Oh, and the headmaster asked me to tell you that your classes have been cancelled because a visiting friend from Italy will be lecturing on wizards and witches in Italian art, so there's no need to rush back."

Severus looked mortified by all this goodwill, growling about the noisy magical dishwashing, the lack of clean napkins and the weather. When Remus smiled fondly at him, he snapped, "You should go back to bed." Molly heartily agreed with this assessment and shooed them out of the kitchen, insisting that the plates would clean themselves.

"The banister is there for a reason," fussed Severus when Remus stumbled going up the stairs, though he then put an arm around Remus' waist. He left it there until they reached his room, despite passing numerous paintings that pointed in their direction and whispered to one another. "Do all the paintings in this house know about us, too?" he grumbled.

"It can't possibly be all of them, because I have noticed no disdain amongst the paintings when any of them choose to speak to me. The ones outside your door have been very polite about letting me know whether or not you were in. One would expect some shrieking over our unnatural activities from paintings hanging in a house that had belonged to Sirius' mother."

"Indeed. I imagine many of them are disappointed to see me wasting myself on a Gryffindor..." They had reached Remus' room, and Severus opened the door for him as Remus nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. "...a Gryffindor half-blood werewolf, with a Slytherin former Death-Eater. That is indeed unnatural. Mrs. Black would have been appalled."

"And to think I only meant that neither of us is a witch." Taking Severus' hand, Remus led him to the bed. "From what Sirius told me, that mattered a great deal in the Black family."

"It mattered to the Malfoys as well, for the purpose of heirs if nothing else." Stretching out beside him, Severus wrapped Remus up in his warmth. "Did it matter to your parents?"

"No. They just wanted me to be happy." Remus thought he saw envy in his companion's eyes before Severus blinked and turned away. "I don't know that they believed I would ever find anyone to love. They were very accepting when I told them about Sirius."

"How lucky you were," mused Severus. "They sent you to Hogwarts -- I can only imagine the effort that must have involved. Obviously they cared about you very much. I wonder whether you have greater power to resist the Death-Eaters than someone like Black or myself."

"I hope never to find out." Shivering softly, Remus pressed closer. "And I'm sorry. You deserved better."

"I made choices that no past suffering can justify. You surely deserved better than this." His fingers traced one of Remus' scars.

"Perhaps we were meant to follow the paths that have led us here. We know things that we would not, had we not suffered as we did." Lacing his fingers through Severus', Remus sighed against the warmth of his neck, trying not to shake from the residual pain in his body. "It's all going to work out -- with Harry, with Malfoy, even with Voldemort. We can't have overcome so many obstacles to be together only to watch the Dark Lord win. As you said, you're stronger now, and so am I..."

"...and you need to sleep," Severus interrupted him firmly. "But first I want to show you something." From a pocket he pulled the memory locket that he had let Remus see at Hogwarts. His fingers traced a distinct pattern over the horse's head and wings. "This is what you have done for me."

The amulet opened, and the pain of his transformation faded from Remus' body, overwhelmed by love.


	12. Rapacious

"I knew that you'd come back."

The elegant, haughty wizard who welcomed Snape into his home would have been entirely recognizable to his colleagues at the Ministry of Magic, on the Board of Governors of Hogwarts and among the Death-Eaters -- far more so than the passionate man who had begged for love and loyalty from Snape the last time they had seen one another. Lucius Malfoy had never needed to plead for anything in his life. He bowed his head only to the Dark Lord.

Indeed, standing straight and aloof in the front hall of his family's Wiltshire mansion, Malfoy reminded Snape of the way he had appeared on their very first evening together, when Severus was still a student and Lucius the golden prince of the wizarding world. That should not have been a happy memory -- _was_ not a happy memory -- yet Snape found himself in the grip of a familiar nostalgia. He could almost believe that if he simply said the right words at the right moment, Lucius would become the man he had always hoped him to be.

That feeling might not have been pleasant, but it was one that Snape could use. "I had to come back," he agreed, lowering his eyes. "I've thought a great deal about what you said." Lucius regarded him expectantly. "You were right; my place is with you." A pause, and Snape added with he hoped no trace of irony, "I should not have forgotten."

"No, you should not have." Lucius stepped closer, and closer still, until he and Snape were breathing the same air and Snape could smell the distinct sweet scent of his hair. He dared not move, uncertain whether Lucius might intend to kiss him, berate him or attempt a sudden intrusion into his mind. A smile crossed the older wizard's face as he leaned in, lips pursing, very close to Snape's ear:

"You're a terrible liar, Severus."

Snape had not expected Lucius simply to accept his word, but he dared not try to use Legilimency with the other man's defenses so high to learn what would be required to prove himself. "Why would I lie to you now?" he asked.

"You know I know that you _have_ lied to me." Lucius contemplated him through narrowed eyes, speaking in a soft voice. "Do you think me stupid? Even if you've decided to give up your werewolf, which I expect would be for all the wrong reasons, I know better than to expect honesty from one who left the Dark Lord for the service of that pedantic fool Dumbledore. Everyone lies, Severus...for safety, for power, for control..."

"I know full well that I have never had power or control here." There was nothing to be gained in attempting to disguise his resentment, so Snape allowed Lucius to see it, keeping himself as open as he dared. It was essential that Lucius believe in his sincerity, even more so than his devotion. "I understood the threats behind your avowals of concern for me. Did you mean any of it, Malfoy? Or has nothing changed from all those years ago?"

The query appeared to satisfy Lucius, who allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to soften the lines of his mouth and eyes. "Why don't you come upstairs with me," he murmured, "and perhaps you'll be able to figure it out."

Lupin and Snape had practiced blocks against subversions of the mind all week, despite the fact that Snape was already the strongest Occlumens in the Order and did not believe that Malfoy possessed the power to break through his defenses. This time he had not tried to move any recollections into the Pensieve beyond the most sensitive of Order secrets, and he doubted that Malfoy would attempt an obvious incursion to find anything of that nature. Lucius would look for more subtle indications of the understanding that he believed had existed between them all along. If he wanted to know what Dumbledore's allies were doing, he would most likely attempt to have one of the others seized.

Still, Lupin had been able to touch reminiscences that Snape had believed to be secure, just as Potter had broken through to see flashes of Snape's memory during the brief, troubled period when the potions master had attempted to teach him Occlumency. Though Lupin would never ask about the terrified, sniveling child he now knew Snape had been, nor the depth of Snape's adolescent humiliation at the hands of Lupin's friends, he had seen how powerful those memories remained -- more so than recollections of working with the Death-Eaters. Although there was no one besides Lupin whom he would have trusted so deeply, Snape found himself wondering which thoughts, which fantasies, which experiences might be considered unforgivable by his lover.

While Snape was with Malfoy, the memories to which he clung were some of his least pleasant: the fear of rejection that he had harbored during their early relationship, the isolation he had felt after he broke from the Death-Eaters, and his darkest memories of Lupin during the two times Snape had witnessed his transformation into a bloodthirsty beast. In the bedroom he felt quite calm, facing the familiar wall of mirrors lit by fixed and floating candles. Lucius poured fire-whiskey into elegant silver-bottomed glasses etched with images of werewolves, which Snape noted with dark amusement as he watched the elegant line of Lucius' throat tilted to take a sip. The icy blue eyes and mane of thick fair hair gave Lucius far more of the appearance of a predator than Remus with his homely cardigans and gentle smile.

"Now that you're here, are you prepared to be more obliging, Severus?" asked Lucius in a tone he might have used to address a child. As a matter of course Snape tried not to think about how Lucius treated his son, but a series of jumbled images went through his mind. He saw his own father, shouting at his mother...Lucius talking about his parents and the vicious arguments he had witnessed as a child...Draco Malfoy dueling Harry Potter, using attacks not often known to second-year students...Lucius restraining his son with the silver snake's head that topped his cane. A bitter taste burned Snape's throat; he put down the fire-whiskey.

"I thought we agreed years ago that you did not need another lapdog."

"You have never been that. Though I will admit that I'm sorry to see you in the company of wolves." The grin that lifted Lucius' mouth held no humor. "I can see how it would be entertaining to possess one, but to convince yourself that you are in love? It's shameful, Severus. No matter how powerful his jaws, he can't protect you from the Dark Lord."

"After all these years, have I finally succeeded in making you jealous?" Snape offered the barest trace of a smile, but it was enough to turn Malfoy's expression to amusement. "Lupin and I found one another at particularly low moments in our lives. You must know that he was Sirius Black's lover." Lucius nodded, the smile curdling nastily. "He had no one. Nor did I. You were in Azkaban."

"Oh, Severus, you didn't truly believe that any Ministry prison would hold me?"

"For awhile it appeared as though it might. For obvious reasons I didn't dare to communicate with you. I could only keep up with your appeals to the Ministry through official channels, and I thought it unwise to write to your wife."

"That was probably wise. She's challenging Black's will, you know. That house at Grimmauld Place where your werewolf lives is rightfully hers."

"Is that so," replied Snape in as disinterested a voice as he could summon. He had known that Narcissa had put in a claim to the property since her cousin Sirius had died without heirs, but Andromeda Tonks -- disinherited by the Black family after her marriage -- had thus far managed to convince Ministry officials that the will should stand, since Narcissa's own husband and their other sister faced charges in connection with Black's death. "As I recall, the house was a shambles after Mrs. Black's death."

"As you recall?" Lucius looked at him sharply. "You've been spotted in the vicinity quite often. You aren't going to deny that you visit Lupin there?"

"Of course I visit Lupin there; I make wolfsbane potion for him," Snape said impatiently, wishing not to dwell on any discussion that would keep Grimmauld Place in his thoughts. "By delivering it personally, I can be certain that he swallows it. I'm sure you've heard about the incident at Hogwarts from the night he failed to do so."

"Oh, yes, what a stroke of luck that was. It enabled Pettigrew to escape and left a vacancy in the Dark Arts position just when we needed one. I had wondered if perhaps the missing potion was not an accidental oversight." There was nothing at all pleasant about Malfoy's approving nod. "But speaking of potions..." The pause went on for slightly too long as Lucius touched Snape's wrist. "I'd like to offer you a private commission. I trust that you're familiar with Four Thieves' Vinegar?"

"_Furunculus acetum_? Of course. Garlic, rosemary, pepper, hyssop, though southern potions masters substitute cloves. Are you anticipating a plague, protecting your home from a curse or planning to dress a salad?"

"It's also considered useful in vanquishing one's enemies, is it not?" asked Lucius with a charming smile. "Whereas High John the Conqueror, _convolvulus jalapa_, is used in binding potions -- isn't it also known as bindweed?" Snape tried not to react to the casual mention of the powerful voodoo ingredients. "It should be possible to combine the two of them to redirect the power of an object from its owner onto one who opposes him."

Rising, Snape poured himself another glass of fire-whiskey while he considered the qualities of the ingredients. "In principle, it may be possible," he said slowly. "But you are well aware that aggressive spells can reverse when their targets possess unknown powers of protection, as happened to the Dark Lord when he attacked Harry Potter. Isn't there a widely held belief among practitioners of sympathetic magic that any such negative spell will rebound upon a witch or wizard who uses it wrongfully?"

"You mustn't subscribe to such absurd superstitions. And I want you to make the potion so potent that it will counteract any unexpected blocks. There are those among us who believe we should recruit another potions master for the task, but I have assured the others that I know your skills."

The flames of the candles reflected off the glass whiskey decanter, making a bright, intricate pattern on the table. Studying it, Snape ignored the suggestion that the Death-Eaters did not trust him and asked in a disinterested tone, "What properties does the object you wish to charm possess? I trust that the material is not anything which might be affected by oil, such as ink or cloth. It would be useful to see the surface before creating the potion."

"I don't have it here." Spreading his hands apologetically, Lucius rose and took Snape's glass from him. "And as important as these matters are, I've had enough such talk for one evening. We can discuss our work later." With an intimate wink, Lucius leaned forward, reaching into a pocket in his beautifully made robes. "I have something for you -- a gift."

Snape did not believe he had ever received a gift from Lucius that had not come with a hidden price. He tried to summon a look of pleased expectancy. "That's very kind of you."

"I've been saving it for a long while. Do you remember I told you I had intended to give you a locket with my hair, to remind you of me?" From his robes Lucius pulled a small golden object. "I've thought of something even better."

The charm felt heavy in Snape's hand, crafted of solid gold, shaped like a miniature treasure chest. It did not appear to be large enough to hold a lock of Lucius' hair. "This is beautifully designed," he conceded. "Is there a spell necessary to open it?"

"Not for you," smiled Lucius. "Just touch the clasp."

When he did so, the little chest fell open for him. For a moment Snape had the impression that it held a mirror within. But although he saw his own face, it did not appear as he had seen it when he dressed to visit Malfoy that evening, nor when he had caught his reflection in the silver looking-glass in Lupin's room that morning. Though the Severus Snape in the image sat in Lucius Malfoy's bedroom, he saw the room as it had looked years before, and a much younger version of himself, wearing an expression so vulnerable that he flinched to see how much his face revealed.

A heartbeat later it was as if Snape had been sucked into the image and turned inside out, for he was sensing powerful erotic feelings and gloating with triumph in a way that he could never recall. The younger version of himself squeezed his eyes shut, begging, "Please, Lucius." Then Snape understood that he was sharing feelings not with his own younger self, but with Lucius...and, moreover, that he had no perspective of his own on the memory preserved in the golden chest, because it had been wiped from his mind many years before by the same man who was possessing him.

Snape tried to make himself shut the amulet, but it was a memory locket unlike any he had seen, with sensations and images that went on and on in quick sharp flashes. His younger self's pleas and cries, excruciating to hear, honed Lucius' arousal and beneath it a fondness of which Snape had not believed Lucius capable, though it was selfish, focused on the pleasure the young man offered to the the proud older wizard. The recollection sped by too quickly to grasp details yet Snape could not force himself to stop it. Finally a burst of vicarious pleasure as Lucius climaxed on that long-ago evening made the experience overlap the present. Shuddering, Snape clenched his hand around the charm, closing it.

"I've saved it for you for all these years," murmured Lucius, stroking Snape's trembling fist. There was no hint of cruelty in his voice, no malice; apparently he believed that he had done Severus a kindness, preserving for him that first sexual encounter which he had wiped from his memory. Snape did not dare to make eye contact, and hoped that Lucius would assume his hand was shaking from residual arousal rather than the rage and shame that were flushing his cheeks. "Why, Severus, you're in quite a passion. Don't tell me that you've forgotten all the times we've shared since..."

"I've forgotten nothing." Although Snape urgently wanted a sip of fire-whiskey, he refused to show even that much weakness. He had come to Malfoy to perform a service for the Order which he had only partially completed, and Malfoy had suggested that he would give no more information until the intimate touches and suggestive words reached fulfillment. Snape had fortified himself for the evening with a potion containing yohimbe, goatweed, ginseng, juniper and maca root; he had no doubt of his ability to perform. Moreover, his anger and agitation, coupled with his body's response to feeling Lucius' excitement in the amulet, left him achingly aroused and aggressive.

It was possible, of course, that the memory in the charm was not real but a forgery -- a fantasy crafted to remind Severus where he belonged. Even so, it was one of few things that Lucius could still hold over Severus, and he must have felt truly desperate to have resorted to it whether he intended to be generous or brutal. Snape's rage and disgust were so strong that they made him bold; rising so that their eyes were at a level, he stared at his onetime mentor, seeking a glimpse of Lucius' motivations while projecting his own need and resolve. He could sense little from the Death-Eater beyond lust and the expectation of its imminent gratification.

"What is it?" demanded Lucius with a perplexed smile which faded as Snape dropped to his knees to open the older man's robes. "No resistance? No protests about how terribly I've used you? This isn't like you."

The groan Snape released was entirely heartfelt. "Lucius, I've been with you all evening, in your bedroom, reminiscing..."

"Pretending." Lucius' eyes had narrowed. "Pretending you're happy."

"I'm not pretending anything." Snape's voice had grown harsh; his hands had opened the robes and were tugging beneath them, touching the stiff organ still confined by fabric. "I'm tired of waiting." He looked up defiantly, raising his eyebrows, watching Lucius echo the expression before putting on his most ostentatiously bored mask and sitting back in his chair.

"Very well, have it your way." Snape ignored this as he took Lucius into his mouth with no warning, listening in satisfaction to the noise the other man emitted before silencing himself. A moment later Snape heard a glass being lifted and the soft sounds of Lucius sucking on an ice cube, yet the shaft in his mouth grew rigid nonetheless and he relaxed his throat to take Lucius in deeper. Reaching up to squeeze a nipple, he heard a sharply indrawn breath, the hint of a cough around the ice, then the resumption of carefully controlled breathing.

This would never do. Snape pinched the nipple again, came up for air, plunged his mouth down once more, taking Lucius as deep as he could and holding him there before withdrawing, coughing and choking. "Don't hurt yourself," said Lucius as dryly as he could manage. Glancing up, Snape raised an eyebrow, holding his eyes as he took him in his mouth again, sucking lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. "What is it you want?" demanded Lucius with a quaver while Snape hummed around him. "You want me to finish in your mouth, like you used to beg when you were little more than a boy?" His breath was coming more raggedly. "Severus, a little self-respect would...ah!" The cry was involuntary as Snape took him into his throat more carefully and swallowed around him. "I suppose I shall oblige you, but...oh..."

Snape had never forgotten all the places Lucius liked to be touched, where he preferred gentle strokes and which spots could take some pressure; he knew just how to flatten his palm and curve his fingers, and before a minute had passed, he had the older man sobbing curses, using his knees to lift himself up and down. Strong fingers tightened on Snape's shoulder, keeping his head held down where Lucius wanted it. "I'm -- Severus -- "

A tattered shudder, a brief cry, and Lucius finished. Snape let him fill his mouth, but as soon as Lucius had recovered enough to open his eyes and look down at him, he sat back on his heels and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, spitting out the thick fluid that he was sure would make him choke if he tried to swallow. Slowly unpeeling his fingers from the shoulder, Lucius stared down at him until Snape shoved himself to his feet, retrieving the glass of fire-whiskey and downing it in a single gulp

"What did you do that for?" asked Lucius in a disappointed tone.

"I wanted to."

"You wanted to get on your knees and suck me like a whore? Even if I gave you no sign of pleasure."

Contemptuously Snape replied, "You gave me signs of pleasure. Didn't you hear yourself?"

"Eventually. I thought you had earned it. But you would have stayed there on your knees if I hadn't made a sound. Even if I hadn't touched you. Wouldn't you, Severus?" Pausing, he tugged his robe across his exposed lower body. "I don't understand what you want from me."

"I want you." Snape fought to keep his voice flat and reasonable, as Lucius always did in the midst of a ploy for power. "I want to be able to touch you until you can't help but give in. I want it on my terms, for once."

"Severus, I realize that Lupin is both weak and ugly, but you can't be this desperate." Twisting his own arm around so that Snape could see it, he tugged up his sleeve and began to trace the Dark Mark with his fingertips. "This is why you're here. Not because of me."

"That isn't true." Snape could afford to stare him down. His own urges unrelieved, his fury still burned brightly. He had no fear that Lucius could penetrate his mind to discover any of Dumbledore's secrets, nor his own. His thoughts were occupied with a hatred that left no room for any gentler emotion, not even the shame he knew would overwhelm him later, when he had time to understand what Lucius had taken from him and, worse, what he had given away freely, calling it love. "You no longer command me, Malfoy, and that mark holds no terror for me. I am here because I choose to be."

"Then why haven't you demanded to fuck me?" The soft, seductive voice contradicted the dangerous expression in the Death-Eater's eyes. "If you aren't here as a pawn or a spy, why not assert yourself? You could make me submit. I've seen hints of how powerful you've become. Why don't you show me?"

"Is that what you want, Lucius? A demonstration that I can't resist you? I was thinking I would give you a little bit of time to recover first."

"You of all people should know that there are potions which make that unnecessary. _Accio!_" Lucius turned to a cabinet, which opened and sent a phial flying into his hand. He swallowed the contents, then tossed his wand to the side and began to remove his robes. "Now come fuck me."

For a moment Snape wanted to resist. In many ancient magical practices, an enemy could use a man's seed to gain power, sapping his potency and binding him erotically or emotionally. As a student of voodoo, Lucius was certainly familiar with the concept, but he had had years to try to ensnare Severus in such a manner and had not been successful. Watching Lucius stretch luxuriantly on the bed, Snape started to take off his own clothing, using his wand to make the pillows fluff. With Malfoy disarmed he felt stronger, preparing him with a combination of magic and his own fingers and tongue. Still, he felt distanced from his own responses, and had to stroke himself to full readiness while Lucius moaned and arched eagerly.

"What do you think about when you do that?" asked Lucius, tilting his head to watch.

"I think about you."

"Do you remember the things we did, or invent the things we didn't -- or do you try to reconstruct the first time, which until tonight has been all mine?" Crawling over Lucius, Snape positioned himself between his legs. He urgently wanted to get this over with before he became angry enough to lose control. "After all this time it's flattering to hear that I remain the one you think about. But I know that you're lying."

Lucius pressed against him greedily, making Snape wonder what had been in the potion he had swallowed to make him so eager again so fast. His own body ached with the need for relief from the potent ingredients he had himself consumed, from the vicarious experience of Lucius' arousal, from anger-fueled lust...mostly from the desire for oblivion, to rut mindlessly and feel nothing at the moment of orgasm but physical release. "You wish you were with another," panted Lucius as Snape moved upon him. "You don't want to be here."

"Of course I do! Can't you feel it?" The words were sincere; hips pumping of their own accord, Snape could not imagine how he could stop even if he had the opportunity. Lucius jerked up to him every time he withdrew, forcing him back inside, surrounded by a sensation of heat and tightness that could not have been entirely natural. "Oh -- Lucius what was in that potion --"

Malfoy's fingers clutched at his arm and he tilted his head back, groaning as he rocked up to meet him. "You may want me _here_, now...like the shameless whore you always were, Severus...you'll take it and enjoy it...but you don't want _me_."

"I'm not..." Snape strained to slow his movements. "...not a whore."

"Of course you're a whore!" Slamming up to him again, Lucius cried out. "You always were! It's right there...in that amulet..." The impulse to strike him was so overwhelming that Snape did not try to hide it, thrusting with all the force his body craved. "Even when I let you fuck me...you're a whore!"

"That isn't true!"

Lucius' mouth twisted in a hideous smile. "Do you do this for love?" With a shudder Snape turned his head away. "Whether it's for Dumbledore...or Lupin...or the Dark Lord...or to return to my good graces...you aren't here for _you_, Severus. What do you think a whore _is_?"

Reaching down, Snape began to stroke Lucius -- not to pleasure him but to silence him. It made Lucius groan, yet it did not stop his voice. "Look at me. Have you told them all the vile, filthy secrets of your past? I assume Lupin knows that you're a murderer. Does he know you've swallowed human blood -- something he, a werewolf, has never done? Does he know you still fuck me? Does he know you've fucked Black's killer?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Or doesn't it matter to him, because when you touch him, he doesn't even see you? How does it feel to make love to a man who's pretending that you are Sirius Black?"

"How does it feel to make love to a man who's pretending that you..." At that moment, with the words tumbling out of Snape's mouth, revealing his weakness, Malfoy struck out into his mind. The images from the little chest overwhelmed Snape again, layered with other memories -- being dominated by Lucius, standing before the Dark Lord with Lucius, confessing his love to Lucius -- that last was intolerable, and he summoned a shield charm to make the images stop. As they did, Snape began to see things that he was certain Lucius had not intended. A terrified small blond boy held a pair of wands as screams and crashes were heard in the distance. A different small blond boy cried out as a silver snake's head swung from the end of a cane, smacking him across the face. A series of glass globes holding prophecies crashed to the floor in the Department of Mysteries. Then Snape saw his own face, urgent and pleading, fierce with devotion, contorted in pleasure...

Closing his eyes, Snape thrust with all his might, wanting only to make this end. Just as he felt his release welling up, tightening his lower body, Lucius groaned again and twisted beneath him. "You will think of me," he chanted as if reciting a curse. Somehow the Death-Eater remained in command of his voice, though his mind was open to Snape now, revealing glimpses of Voldemort, of Diggory's corpse, of Draco cowering, of Lupin as he must have looked in the Ministry on the night Black died. "Open your eyes, Severus. You'll always be mine. Not Lupin's, not Dumbledore's, not Voldemort's. Mine." With a shudder Lucius pulsed in his hand and came with a shout.

Summoning the last of his control, Snape pulled away from Lucius' body and his mind in the same instant. He could not keep from climaxing against Lucius' belly, but he kept his jaw tightly shut, letting none of his words escape. They lay together, sweating, clutching one another's shoulders to keep from collapsing before abruptly pushing apart. Snape tumbled onto the bed beside Lucius, who struggled to sit up, running a hand through the mess on his belly with his lip curled.

"Was your whore not satisfactory tonight?"

For a moment the older man merely stared, chest heaving, lips parted as if he would speak. Then, too fast to evade, his hand drew back and slapped Snape hard across the face. Cheek burning and eyes stinging, Snape nearly fell over with the shock of it; he managed to right himself with a hand on the mattress as Lucius rose and strode away to cover up with a robe.

"Go. Get back to your werewolf, while you still taste like me and smell like me. Enjoy him while you can." In the great mirror across from the bed Snape could see the impression of fingerprints across his cheekbone, glistening with the fluid that had been on Lucius' hand. Carefully he wiped his face clean on Lucius' blanket, then rose and walked as calmly as he could to fetch his own robes, aware of nothing beyond the need to keep his hands steady. "You can't spy for Dumbledore without me," Malfoy taunted, voice filled with contempt. "You won't be able to protect any of them. By this time next week, I will see you here again, begging for my forgiveness."

Snape lifted his head to stare, then thought the better of it and returned his attention to fastening his clothes. Very calmly Lucius continued, "You will be back, next time, to stay. And do you know why, Severus? Not to protect those pathetic half-bloods and Mudbloods, not to share in the power and glory of the Dark Lord. You'll come back because every time you close your eyes, you will see my face." The little treasure chest amulet flew through the air, striking Snape beside his mouth and sending a trickle of blood down his chin.

Robes in place, wand in his pocket, Snape walked to the door without so much as a glance at Malfoy. There was no need: he could see the Death-Eater's face reflected in all the mirrors in the room. Malfoy looked very like the face of his younger self inside the charm -- the same man who had preserved that memory for so many years. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Snape turned his head, meeting those multiple gazes. "And whose face do _you_ see, Lucius?"

He did not wait for an answer; twisting the doorknob, he slipped out of the room, shutting out the eyes that glared after him. When he was halfway down the staircase, he heard a muffled crash, then another. It did not require clairvoyance to know that Lucius had flung their drinking glasses at the mirrors.

The ghost of an old pain cramped Snape's hand; he paused to rub it, remembering china shattering on the floor, blood dripping from his own skin, Lucius' soothing voice...the story of a boy who had been broken long before. It was much too late to mourn for him, just as it was too late to mourn for the boy in the charm whom Snape himself had been. Swallowing, he forced himself to keep walking until he had left the Malfoy mansion behind.

Within the walls of Grimmauld Place he stood in front of Lupin's door, hand on the knob, for so long that one of the paintings asked him whether he was well. There were many things he knew that he should do -- to begin with, he wanted to bathe, despite the repeated scourgify charms he had performed upon himself -- but he could not bring himself to move away from the haven on the other side of that wall, even if safety was an illusion and love could twist into its opposite, like his feelings for Malfoy. He could not bring himself to knock, for he had not earned the forgiveness he knew Lupin would offer, but he felt the warmth radiating into the hallway.

The door flew open so suddenly that he wondered whether he had willed it, though he had not deliberately used magic, but as he stumbled through the frame he knew that his lover must have been able to sense him there. "Were you planning to stand out there all night?" asked Lupin softly.

"I hoped for your sake that you would be asleep," Snape began to explain before realizing that he had no wish to lie, ever, to Lupin, particularly not about something so insignificant. "I apologize. My evening has been very trying."

"You saw Malfoy." It was not a question, so there was no need to respond in words, and a moment later Lupin's arms closed around him. "Come to bed."

"Wait -- I've made no notes, I haven't even washed properly -- "

"Come to bed," Lupin said again and tugged him insistently across the room, pulling him down on top of the covers and holding him against his chest the way Snape imagined one might hold a disconsolate child. He was about to protest again when Lupin's fingers caught his elbow and drew his arm upward. Bending his head, Lupin kissed the Dark Mark. The calm that Snape had worn about himself like a robe since he fled the Malfoy house left him as suddenly as the pain that had lingered in his hand and arm.

"Shh," whispered Lupin, stroking Snape's arm until his shuddering had subsided. Instinctively Snape had called upon his skills as a Legilimens, probing at his lover's mind to protect himself, yet he encountered no blocks, no fear, no hidden resentments nor humiliating recollections of Snape from their youth. He tumbled through a series of recent happy memories involving himself and some older ones of Black, interspersed with occasional, terrifying recollections of the blinding pain and shame of transformation.

"Don't be ashamed." Snape lifted his head and looked into Lupin's eyes, only to find himself face to face with his own image. It was Lupin's memory of his last morning as a Hogwarts professor, while he still burned with injuries inflicted by the dog and the hippogriff and by his own claws. In the recollection he stood exposed before their fellows as Snape denounced him as a werewolf. Snape's eyes were bright with triumph in Lupin's memory, but his mouth was distorted in fear.

"Severus, I'm sorry," whispered Lupin, trying to push the memory away, filling his thoughts with kissing, laughter and chocolate which Snape could practically taste. But Snape's mind was already responding, discarding the memories of warmth and pleasure to which he had clung while he stood alone in the corridor that night, taking him back to another passageway, a much earlier time...filthy dark walls reeking of old blood, Potter shouting behind him, tugging him frantically, and ahead of him the loathsome creature -- claws and fangs and great yellow eyes -- rearing up for the lunge and the killing blow...

In his arms in the present, Lupin was shaking all over, eyes clenched shut. Snape forced the memory to shift, beginning to fade into another; the rapacious eyes and teeth became not Lupin's but Malfoy's. "It isn't real. Look at me. Remus. You know how Legilimency distorts the truth. I kept the image in my mind for Malfoy, in case he tried to touch my thoughts concerning you. That is not how I think of you."

"And yet it's there." Lupin would not meet his eyes. "You see me as a monster, you can't help it. And I can't bear it."

"I've told you. It's a foolish, childish -- " Snape's lungs would not allow him to continue, and he drew a deep, pained breath that left him nauseous. "_I_ can bear it. That image remains in my mind to disguise others, which are intolerable, which have nothing to do with you. If you looked into my past, you would see what is truly unforgivable."

Hesitantly Lupin did look at him, fingers sliding up and down his arm. "If you can forgive me for that, then there isn't anything unforgivable between us. Whatever you did in Voldemort's name, or Malfoy's name, was in the past, and I promise you I can accept it." Abruptly he seemed to become aware of the bruises on Snape's face, not completely healed by the hasty charms Snape had used to subdue the pain. "What did he do to you, Severus?"

"He hit me." Lupin was not a violent man -- even when Black fell, he had not called for the blood of Bellatrix Lestrange -- yet his mouth tightened into an angry line and his knuckles went white. "Don't upset yourself about that. It was the only moment of pleasure I had all evening. It's unlike him to lose control in such a manner. He would never have done it had I not been blocking him so effectively -- look at the Mark." Lupin's fingers slid away from Snape's arm as he glanced down. "I can no longer feel it. Yet Malfoy said that I would never escape. He assured me that I would be unable to forget the sight of his face."

"He can't hold any influence over you if you don't want him to, Severus."

"I know that." Snape spoke with more irritation than he intended. "But it is not easy...how long did it take you to stop hating yourself for what you were?" Sighing softly, Lupin nodded understanding. "Now, imagine if you had not become a werewolf against your will, but had chosen to be a killer." A bloody image filled his mind, a horror from his own past...Lupin gasped, and Snape knew that he had forced that vision into his mind. "Do you understand what I am? Malfoy assured me that you did not. You may not even consider my relationship with him the worst of it."

"What is the worst, then? Tell me the very worst. Get it out."

"Besides murder, torture and violence against wizards of mixed bloodlines?" Then he knew, and knew as well that Malfoy might find a way to tell Lupin if he did not. "Before she married, I was once involved with Bellatrix Lestrange."

Lupin drew in a breath and let it out in a pained laugh that turned into a shudder. "I think that may qualify as more perverse than sleeping with a werewolf."

"Lucius toyed with the idea, briefly, that if I married Narcissa's sister he could keep me close. I wouldn't have stood for it even if she would have considered marrying me. But I suppose I was curious, and envious of Narcissa, and Bellatrix was willing -- " He stopped. "I have memories of her. I should have told you sooner but it seemed more unforgivable than an anonymous murder. I cannot imagine what you must feel even to hear her name."

Lupin held him tighter, biting his lip and burying his face against Snape's neck. "What's done is done," he answered, voice muffled against the skin. "I don't imagine it's easy for you to know that many of my happiest memories involve Sirius. But I can't change that, and I wouldn't, and I can't ask you to change your past either." Wearily he lifted his head. "Recriminations at this point would serve no purpose."

"Don't you ever just get angry? Don't you ever hold a grudge?"

"Of course I do. If you asked me to, I would put a curse on Malfoy tonight. But I think we both understand that that sort of spite would ultimately hurt me more than him, and it wouldn't help you. Hate serves evil no matter its source. I loved Sirius but I know how cruel he could be -- look how he treated you, look how he treated Kreacher, and how we all paid for it."

Snape recalled Malfoy's taunt that Lupin had never touched him without wishing he was with Black and the fragments of memory he had encountered in Lupin's mind -- recollections of happiness that no recent experiences had replaced. He looked into Lupin's eyes. "Do you think about Black when you're with me?"

"He's gone, Severus." Though it was clearly difficult for him, Lupin held his gaze. "I would be lying if I said I never thought of him, but I have never wished that he was here and you were gone. Do you still hate him so very much?"

"I try not to think of him at all."

"If he had had time to grow up properly, instead of losing all those years to Azkaban..." Lupin began hesitantly. "I like to think that things would have been different. That he would have treated you better, and eventually you would have realized that he meant his apologies. Even Harry knows that how he treated you was wrong."

"Yet Potter idolizes Black."

"Harry idolizes the godfather he's lost. But I knew Sirius too well. His anger and resentment weakened him. I don't want to see you suffer the same fate."

"If it is any consolation, any loathing I may have felt for Black has become a memory as well. He lost you, and I pity him." Lupin sighed quietly, taking his hand. "As far as hatred is concerned, I am more disturbed by what Malfoy may do for revenge. He knows that I am never coming back, and while anger and resentment may have weakened him as well, he is still a formidable enemy."

"Then pity _him_, Severus. I do." Lupin's fingers tightened around Snape's. "You showed me what you carry in your memory locket. How could you possibly believe that what is between us now is not stronger than whatever horrors lie in the past? If Malfoy seeks revenge...then we'll be ready."


	13. Fragments

A summons from Albus Dumbledore had never meant good news, not from the time Remus had been a young student at Hogwarts. Even if he hadn't been in trouble personally, a call to the headmaster's office had suggested a problem to be discussed in private; when Dumbledore had happy news to share, he had a disconcerting habit of doing so in the Great Hall at dinner, so that not only the subject of the news but everyone else learned the good tidings at the same time.

Any call to the headmaster's office might mean something worrisome, but at this hour of the night, when Remus had already left the library at Grimmauld Place and was reading in his bed, it surely meant something dire indeed. Glancing at Severus, whose lips were pressed together in an unreadable line, Remus felt his stomach tighten.

"Ah, Professor Snape. Professor Lupin. Sit down." Severus' eyebrows shot up at the greeting, for Dumbledore was one of few people who usually addressed him by his given name, while Lupin himself couldn't understand why he would be called by a title he could no longer claim. A moment later it became clearer, for as they moved into the office, they saw Professor McGonagall and Harry Potter already seated with expressions just as uneasy as the one Severus wore.

"There has been a fire at the wizarding museum you visited several months ago," announced the headmaster. "Many of the objects that had been on display were destroyed. Some Death-Eaters were reported to have been seen nearby." Remus met Severus' glance, then went to sit near Harry, whose hunched shoulders and helpless look suggested distress. "I asked Mr. Potter to join us," Dumbledore continued, "because he awoke his entire dormitory shouting about a fire, when there was nothing burning in Gryffindor House. Professor Snape, I am afraid that I must ask you to resume your Occlumency lessons."

Harry did not object aloud; nor did Professor Snape, though Remus noted that he wore very nearly the same sullen, resentful expression as his pupil. "Very well, Headmaster," Severus replied mechanically. "Potter, in regard to this dream...have you any objects in your possession which might at any time have been in the hands of a Death-Eater? Any gifts from other students, perhaps, from whom you would not ordinarily receive such attention?"

"If you're asking whether Draco Malfoy's been giving me Christmas presents, the answer is no," Harry snapped. "And no one's hidden any diaries among my things, and I haven't found any mysterious amulets..."

"Why would you say amulets?" demanded Snape, staring at him.

"It just...came into my head," answered Harry defiantly. "Anyway, except for my books, some Muggle candy that Hermione gave me and a few experimental items from Fred and George's collection, I haven't really got anything new."

"Professor Snape, what are you suggesting?" inquired McGonagall.

Though he still looked suspicious, Severus took his eyes off Harry to glance at her, then at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I believe I have mentioned to you the interest I have perceived among certain of the Death Eaters in sympathetic magic. If Mr. Potter does not object, I believe a protection charm on his belongings would be appropriate."

"Fine. Feel free to protect my..." Abruptly Harry checked himself. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I had also wondered..." Snape spoke imperiously over the apology, glancing at the scowling youth again. "For a practitioner of sympathetic magic, any item at one time possessed by Potter or his family might be used in an attempt to harm him. It had occurred to me to be concerned about any belongings of his parents that might have survived."

"They are safe," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry raised his eyes incredulously. "You have things that belonged to my parents...?"

"Not I," replied the headmaster. "As you have just heard from Professor Snape, those items in the wrong hands could be used as weapons against you. Nor would they be entirely protected in the Ministry of Magic. I'm sorry, Harry, but I am afraid that at the present time, those things are safest remaining hidden. Now, I would like you to tell Professor Lupin and the rest of us exactly what you saw in your dream."

"I was in a big room with cabinets with glass panels," Harry recalled. "One of them had wands in it, I think, and there were spyglasses and animal bones. I smelled smoke, and heard a cracking sound, and thought something must have broken -- one of the old potions bottles -- but when I turned there were flames along the curtains..."

It was a straightforward description of a dream about escaping from a burning building, except that Harry had never set foot in the building in question and Remus doubted that there was any source from which he could have obtained such a detailed description, unless Harry had somehow read his and Severus' notes on their visit. The four adults were exchanging significant looks before the retelling came to its conclusion.

"Remus," sighed Dumbledore. "I am afraid I must ask you to visit the museum again, to assess the damage and see if you can determine a cause for the blaze. Since Minerva and Severus are needed here, I suggest that you ask Arthur Weasley to accompany you; he is familiar with the museum in question."

Remus was on the verge of asking why no one had suggested that Arthur accompany him on his first reconnaissance of the museum when Dumbledore's eyes twinkled suddenly at him, and he realized with a start that the headmaster likely had learned from Arthur about the sealed cabinets with the whimsical locking spell. Molly had had allies in teaming himself and Severus up -- or pairing them off, he thought with amusement. "Certainly I'll go," he nodded. "Harry, you'll be all right?"

"Of course I will," said Harry crossly. "I'll just be here practicing Occlumency, won't I, Professor Snape?"

"It is rather late," Dumbledore observed serenely. "Professor McGonagall, would you be so good as to see Mr. Potter back to his dormitory? And Professor Snape, if you have any recollections you wish to share..."

The recollections that Severus and Remus shared quickly before the latter's return to Grimmauld Place were perhaps not of the nature that the headmaster had had in mind, yet allowed Remus to depart content and focused, though quite hungry. He went through the cupboards before leaving, stocking his pockets with biscuits and receiving a scolding from Arthur for eating ice cream directly out of the tub after he discovered it in the icebox; Arthur looked no more pleased when Remus announced that he intended to eat the entire contents, since his dismissive "There isn't much left" amounted to "a little more than half." With only four nights until the full moon, he was very hungry, and also a bit anxious about what they might find at the museum, though he was pleased to be sent out at last since Moody seemed reluctant to include him on any but local missions.

Arthur, too, had been sent on fewer tasks since recovering from the awful wound he had sustained months earlier, which Remus suspected had more to do with the influence of his elder sons than his own wishes, though one consequence was that Molly increasingly accompanied some of the others on raids. Arthur distracted himself by trying to cook, often with disastrous consequences, and he had picked up his wife's habit of speaking to all the members of the Order as if they might need parenting, warning them to dress warmly and not spoil their meals.

Remus, who had cooked for himself for many years, often helped him in the kitchen. Now he gave Arthur a benevolent smile when he rebuked him for eating biscuits as they approached the museum. The smell of fire was strong in the air,

"Dinner won't be for hours, Arthur. I'm hungry. And it's mid-month before the week is out."

"Mid-month?" Arthur looked entirely confused at the reference. "Oh! Is that the day?" Then he winked suddenly as Lupin studied him, uncertain what the grin signified. "You and Severus," continued Arthur, blushing a bit. "It's hard to think of Snape celebrating an anniversary. But he does bring you chocolate so often, you know."

Blushing, Remus covered his eyes, overwhelmed with affection for Arthur Weasley. "Friday isn't our anniversary," he said. "It's the full moon."

"Oh! Oh, terribly sorry," stammered Arthur, turning bright red. "I do tend to forget, you know. That you're. You know."

Lupin smiled at him as he threw the container into a rubbish bin on the walk leading to the museum.


End file.
